PS 

3521 


:essrul  Calamity 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  28-30  We*  S8th  St,  New  Yark 


!        A  SUCCESSFUL 
CALAMITY 

A  COMEDY  IN  TWO  ACTS 

BY 

CLARE  [RUMMER 

• 

COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY  SAMUEL  FRENCH 
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The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  playbill  of  the  first  per 
formance  of  "A  Successful  Calamity,"  Monday  evening, 
February  5th,  1917. 

BOOTH  THEATRE,  NEW  YORK 
ARTHUR  HOPKINS 

PRESENTS 

A  SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 
A  Comedy  in  Two  Acts 

BY 
CLARE  KUMMER 

CAST   OF   CHARACTERS 

HENRY  WILTON  William  Gillette 

EMMIE  Estelle  Winwood 

MARGUERITE Ruth  Findlay 

GEORGE  STRUTHERS  Richard  Sterling 

CLARENCE  RIVERS Roland  Young 

JULIE  PARTINGTON Kathcrine  Alexander 

CONNORS    , William  Devereux 

PIETRO  RAFAELO Manart  Kippen 

DR.  BROODIE Claus  Bogel 

JOHN  BELDEN Charles  Lane 

ALBERTINE Mile.  Marcelle 


3 

5003*,., 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

HENRY  WILTON.  .A  millionaire,  who  longs  to  spend 

a   quiet   evening   at   home. 
EMMIE.  .His  young  second  wife. 
MARGUERITE.  .His  daughter. 
EDDIE.  .His  son. 

GEORGE  STRUTHERS.  .Marguerite's  fiance. 
CLARENCE  RIVERS.  .Another  fiance. 
JULIA  PARTINGTON.  .Eddie's  fiancee. 
CONNORS.  .The  Butler. 

PIETRO  RAFAELO.  .An  Italian  portrait  painter. 
DR.  BROODIE.  .The  family  physician. 
JOHN  BELDEN.  .Wilton's  partner. 
ALBERTINE.  .Mrs.  Wilton's  maid. 

ACT    I 

SCENE  I:   A  living  room  in  MR.  WILTON'S  house. 

Shortly  before  dinner. 
SCENE  II :  The  same.    Later  in  the  evening. 

ACT    II 

SCENE  I :    The  same.     The  next  morning. 
SCENE  II :  The  same.    Later  in  the  morning. 

TIME:  The  present.    PLACE:   New  York  City. 


ACT   I 

SCENE    i :   A  living  room  in  MR.  WILTON'S  house 
on  Park  Avenue,  New  York. 

Large  fireplace  Right.  Large  window  Left, 
with  handsome  curtains.  Entrances  from  hall 
way  at  back  Right  and  Left;  arches  hung  with 
heavy  curtains.  Hallway  at  back  seen  through 
arches.  Back  of  Left  arch  in  flat  is  seen  the 
entrance  to  the  Music  Room;  smaller  arch  with 
handsome  curtains.  Through  Right  Arch  is 
seen  stairway  leading  to  upper  story  of  house: 
practical.  Console  table  between  the  arches 
with  tray,  decanter  and  sherry  glasses,  tele 
phone,  cigarettes,  matches  and  ash  tray.  Seat 
surrounding  front  of  fireplace.  Small  tabouret 
under  seat.  Large  arm  chair  in  front  of  fire 
place.  Round  ottoman  R.C.  Large  library  table 
a  little  to  left  of  centre.  Long  seat  near  table 
Left.  Chair  up  left  and  chair  down  left  centre. 
Smoking  stand  and  cigars,  etc.,  up  Right  near 
fireplace.  Fire  in  fireplace.  Salver  with  let 
ters  on  center  table.  Tall  screen  up  R.C.  be 
tween  Right  arch  and  Console  table.  Desk 
above  fireplace  R. 

AT  RISE  :   CONNORS  enters  L.U.  and  ALBERTINE  dis 
covered  at  console  table  up  c. 

CONNORS.    What  are  you  doing,  Albertine? 

ALBERTINE.  Can't  you  see  ?  I  am  taking  a  cigar 
ette.  I  am  dead  if  you  want  to  know.  I  sit  all  the 
afternoon  in  that  studio.  I  listen  to  M'sieu  Rafaelo 

7 


8  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

recite  to  Madame  the  long  poem  while  he  paint, 
an'  then  they  walk  home  together.  So  slow — I 
have  to  come  on  ahead. 

CONNORS.  (L.C.)  You  shouldn't  take  Mr.  Ed~ 
die's  cigarettes,  Albertine. 

ALBERTINE.  (R.C.)  What  can  I  do?  Madame 
does  not  smoke.  It  is  very  inconvenient  for  me. 

CONNORS.  And  you  shouldn't  come  on  ahead 
when  you  are  accompanying  Madame — it's  not  re 
spectful. 

ALBERTINE.  Oh,  no — I  must  do  nothing.  I  am 
not  a  machine — anyway,  I  say,  "Excuse  me."  Eet 
is  spring.  Connors — do  you  not  know  it?  Do  you 
expect  me  to  walk  along,  slow  like  that — (Bus.) 
— alone?  (Up  to  table  up  c.) 

CONNORS.    Certainly. 

ALBERTINE.  If  I  am  in  Madame's  place,  I  walk 
slow,  too.  (ALBERTINE  lights  cigarette.) 

CONNORS.  (Up  to  her)  Don't  light  that  cigar 
ette  in  here,  Albertine — what  are  you  thinking  of? 

ALBERTINE.  I  am  not  thinking  at  all,  Connors. 
You  are  so  solemn.  Close  your  eyes,  Connors — 
perhaps  you  see  the  woods  of  England — the  violets 
— a  pair  of  blue  eyes — 

CONNORS.  It's  best  not  to  have  such  thoughts 
when  one  is  in  service,  Albertine — it's  upsetting. 

ALBERTINE.  But  that  is  very  good,  too.  Eet  is 
spring,  Connors.  (ALBERTINE  exits  R.u.J 

(Enter  MARGUERITE  L.U.     She  has  been  out  and 
draws  her  gloves  off  as  she  crosses  to  Exit  R.uJ 

MARGUERITE.  I'll  have  my  dinner  in  my  room 
to-night,  Connors,  at  seven. 

CONNORS    As  usual,  Miss. 

MARGUERITE.  Yes — as  usual.  And— er— I  want 
the  car  at  nine.  Peters  and  the  new  limousine. 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  9 

CONNORS.  I  think  Mrs.  Wilton  is  using  it  to 
night,  Miss. 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  is  she?  Then  I'll  have  Jean 
and  the  Fiat.  (Goes  up  to  desk  R.)  Is  father  go 
ing  out  to-night,  Connors? 

CoNNORvS.     (Sadly)     I  suppose  so,  Miss. 

MARGUERITE.     Is  he  going  out  to  dinner? 

CONNORS.  Well,  that's  not  settled,  Miss.  But 
he'll  be  going  immediately  after,  if  not  before. 

MARGUERITE.  Well — tell  him  I  want  to  see  him, 
Connors.  I'm  going  to  play  bridge  to-night  and  it's 
very  important  for  me  to  see  him  before  I  go 

CONNORS.  Yes,  Miss — oh !  (He  takes  letter  from 
silver  tray- on  table.)  Here's  a  letter  for  you,  Miss. 

(MARGUERITE  takes  letter,  looks  at  it  and,  coming 
back,  sits  in  chair  in  front  of  fireplace.  Opens 
letter  thoughtfully  and  reads.  CONNORS  exits 
R.U.  Voices  in  hallway,  EMMIE  and  RACAELO, 
heard  off.  RAFAELO'S  voice  reciting  an  Italian 
poem.) 

RAFAELO.     (Off) 

Amore,  amore  che  si  m'hai  ferita, 
Altro  che  amore  non  posso  gridare; 

(Enter  EMMIE  and  RAFAELO  L.U.     They  stroll  in, 
he  continuing  to  recite.) 

Amore,  amore  teco  sono  unita, 
Altro  non  posso  che  te  abbracciare. 

RAFAELO.  There's  only  a  little  more  of  it.  It  is 
so  beautiful — I  think  he  is  one  great  poet. 

EMMIE.  Yes,  but  you  see  you  know  what  it 
means,  Pietro — that  makes  such  a  difference.  I've 


io          A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

forgotten  my  Italian — I  never  knew  very  much. 
(To  MARGUERITE,)  Hello,  dear. 

MARGUERITE.  (Looking  up,  remains  seated) 
Hello,  Sweetie — Mr.  Rafaelo. 

RAFAELO.  How  is  Miss  Marguerite?  I  just  walk 
over  from  the  studio  with  Mrs.  Wilton. 

EMMIE.  You  must  go  now,  Pietro — at  least  I 
must — for  I've  to  dress,  you  see,  and  have  my  hair 
done,  and  everything. 

RAFAELO.  But  I  will  come  back.  I  take  you  to 
Mrs.  Longley's  to  dinner — yes? 

EMMIE.     Only  if  Mr.  Wilton  doesn't  go,  Pietro. 

RAFAELO.    He  will  not  go — no,  no — he  will  not  go. 

EMMIE.     Oh,  but  perhaps  he  will,  Pietro. 

i( MARGUERITE  glances  up,  rattles  her  letter  a  little, 
as  if  disturbed.) 

RAFAELO.  Well,  I  shall  hope  for  the  best; 
I  come  back.  (Up  to  exit  L.J  Good-bye.  And 
to  you,  Miss  Marguerite.  (Exits  L.u.J 

EMMIE,  (c.)  Oh,  what  a  long  letter.  Is  it  a 
wonderful  love  letter?  (Going  up  R.u.J 

MARGUERITE.    It's  from  George. 

EMMIE.    Oh! 

(Exit  EMMIE  U.R.  upstairs.) 

EMMIE.     (In  hallway  R.uJ     Hello,  Eddie. 

EDDIE.  (In  hallway)  Hello,  Sweetie.  (Enters 
R.U.  He  has  a  very  slight  edge  on.)  Hello.  Father 
come  in  yet? 

MARGUERITE.  No,  not  yet.  (EDDIE  goes  to  cel- 
larette  near  console  up  c.  and  pours  out  a  liberal 
drink.  MARGUERITE  turns  and  looks  at  him.)  Eddie, 
I  think  it's  perfectly  disgusting  to  be  in  the  con 
dition  that  you're  in,  before  dinner. 

EDDIE.      Do   you?     Well (Gulping    down 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  n 

drink.)  I'm  not  going  to  eat  any  dinner,  so  before 
and  after  mean  nothing  to  me. 

MARGUERITE.    What  is  the  matter  with  your  face  ? 

EDDIE.  Just  what's  always  been  the  matter  with 
it  I  guess — my  features. 

MARGUERITE.  But  you're  so  ghastly  white,  Ed 
die! 

EDDIE.  A  little  talk  with  you  certainly  does  brace 
a  fellow  up.  (Pouring  out  a  second  libation)  For 
one  thing 

MARGUERITE.  (Shocked)  Are  you  going  to  drink 
another  ? 

EDDIE.  (Proving  that  he  is)  Julie's  thrown  me 
over  this  afternoon.  (Down  c.) 

MARGUERITE.    Oh — that's  it? 

EDDIE.  It's  the  last  time  I'll  give  her  a  chance  to 
do  it.  It's  gotten  to  be  a  habit  with  her  now,  and 
I'm  tired  of  it. 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  I  don't  blame  Julie — the  way 
you've  been  going  it  with  that  Mrs.  Laceby — an  old 
married  woman! 

EDDIE.     She's  not  old. 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  she's  thirty  if  she's  a  day! 
Everybody's  been  talking  about  it. 

EDDIE.    Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ? 

MARGUERITE.  I  haven't  seen  you  for  a  week, 
Eddie. 

EDDIE.  That's  the  worst  of  living  in  the  house 
with  people — you  never  see  them.  You  might  have 
written  to  me. 

MARGUERITE.  Don't  be  ridiculous — you  must 
have  known  it.  People  always  know  things.  Here 
• — (Holding  out  letter) — Is  George's  ultimatum.  I 
knew  it  was  coming. 

EDDIE.  You're  not  going  to  let  George  go  just  for 
an  ultimatum? 

MARGUERITE.    He's  coming  to-night,  for  my  final 


12  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

word — and  I  shan't  even  be  here.  I've  had  an  en 
gagement  to  play  bridge  to-night,  for  two  weeks. 

EDDIE.  Two  weeks !  That's  quite  a  long  game. 
Why  not  take  old  George  along? 

MARGUERITE.  George  doesn't  play  cards.  He 
doesn't  do  anything — since  he  had  the  plans  drawn 
for  our  house  in  the  country.  He  just  sits  and  goes 
from  room  to  room  on  a  blue  print — and  expects 
me  to. 

EDDIE.  Well,  wouldn't  you  rather  do  that  than 
have  it  all  wrong?  (Rings  servants'  bell  R.  of  R.u. 
arch.)  I  suppose  not.  Women  like  to  wait  till  it's 
too  late  and  then  kick  about  things.  (Enter  CON 
NORS  R.uJ  I'll  have  the  new  car  to-night,  Connors. 

MARGUERITE.     Sweetie's  going  to  use  it. 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir.    Mrs.  Wilton  has  ordered  it. 

EDDIE.  Oh — well,  then  I'll  have  anything  that's 
in  the  garage. 

MARGUERITE.    Where's  your  car  ? 

EDDIE.  It's  down  on  a  stone  wall  at  Elmhurst, 
Long  Island. 

MARGUERITE.     Eddie! 

EDDIE.    Didn't  you  read  about  it  in  the  paper? 

MARGUERITE.  No — I  don't  have  time  to  read  the 
papers. 

EDDIE.  Well — it's  there,  anyhow.  (To  CONNORS,) 
The  big  Swede  is  coming  to-night,  Connors,  to  give 
me  a  rub — then  I'm  going  to  take  a  nap. 

CONNORS.     Yes,  sir. 

EDDIE.  At  about  nine  o'clock  a  man  will  call  with 
an  envelope.  You  look  in  it  and  see  that  there  are 
two  tickets  for  the  prize  fight  to-night.  They'll  be 
fifty  dollars.  Get  the  money  from  father.  I've  had 
a  little  bad  luck  to-day. 

CONNORS.    Your  father  is  going  out,  sir. 

EDDIE.    He  isn't  going  out  before  he  comes  in,  is 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  13 

he?  (To  MARGUERITE  j  Maybe  you've  got  it, 
Midge  ? 

MARGUERITE.  No.  I've  to  see  father,  too.  (Exits 
R.U.  up  the  stairs.) 

EDDIE.  Well,  get  it  from  father  before  he  goes, 
Connors.  (Crosses  to  arch  R.U.)  And  don't  wake 
me  up  before  nine.  (Exits  up  the  stairs  R.u.J 

(Enter  WILTON  L.C.    A  charming,  tired  gentleman 
in  the  early  forties,  whose  hair  is  turning  gray.) 

WILTON.  Well,  Connors — I'm  home  early  to 
night. 

CONNORS.  Why,  yes,  sir — you  are  a  little  early 
for  you,  sir.  (Takes  WILTON'S  coat  and  hat,  exits 
L.U.  and  returns.  WILTON  crosses  Rj  Oh!  Mr. 
Belden  will  stop  in  on  his  way  home,  sir. 

WILTON.  (R.C.)  Belden?  I  just  left  him  at  the 
office. 

CONNORS,  (c.)  Yes,  sir;  he  phoned  something 
came  up  he  wants  to  speak  to  you  about.  He  says 
if  you  could  wait  in  a  little  while  before  going  out, 
he  would  appreciate  it. 

WILTON.  Well,  I'd  appreciate  it  myself  to  wait 
in  a  little  while  before  going  out.  (Pause.)  Every 
body's  out,  I  suppose? 

CONNORS.  Why,  no,  sir — they've  all  come  in. 
But  they're  all  going  out  again,  sir. 

WILTON.  Of  course — of  course.  (Going  to  fire 
place)  Am  I  going  out  to-night,  Connors? 

CONNORS.  Why,  yes,  sir.  You're  to  dine  at  the 
Longley's  with  Mrs.  Wilton,  sir — and  if  you  won't 
do  that,  she  will  stop  by  for  you  at  about  nine  and 
take  you  to  the  opera,  sir.  And  then  there's  a  re 
ception  after,  I  think,  sir. 

WILTON.    (R.)    Oh !    (Looks  into  fire  and  sighs) 


14  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

Do  you  know,  Connors — I  have  an  idea  that  I'm  get 
ting  old. 

CONNORS.  (R.C.  Distressed)  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Wil 
ton — no,  you're  a  young  man  yet,  sir. 

WILTON.  Well,  then  why  is  it  that  I  feel  I  would 
like  to  spend  a  quiet  evening  at  home — dine  with 
my  family,  perhaps  play  a  game  of  cribbage  and— 
go  to  bed  ? 

CONNORS.  Well,  that's  a  nice  way  to  do  some 
times,  sir. 

WILTON.  I  should  think  it  would  be.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it,  of  course. 

CONNORS.  Why,  you're  tired,  sir— that's  all's  the 
matter. 

WILTON.     Is  that  all  that's  the  matter,  Connors? 
CONNORS.    Why,  yes,  sir.    You  go  out  every  night 
— and  you  can't  sleep  mornings  like  the  rest  do,  sir. 
WILTON.    Do  I  go  out  every  night,  Connors? 
CONNORS.    Why,  you  certainly  do,  sir. 
WILTON.    Did  I  go  out  last  night? 
CONNORS.    Why,  yes,  sir.    You  went  to  the  Cope- 
ly-Pritchards  last  night,  sir. 

WILTON.  So  I  did — but  I  don't  remember  much 
about  it. 

CONNORS.  It  was  a  song  recital,  I  think,  sir — 
and  charades.  Mrs.  Wilton  took  part. 

WILTON.  Oh,  yes,  Mrs.  Wilton  took  part.  I 
think  I  went  to  sleep — in  fact,  I'm  sure  I  did.  But 
I  didn't  rest  very  well.  I  was  in  a  camp  chair. 

CONNORS.  That's  not  like  being  in  your  own 
bed,  sir. 

WILTON.  No,  it's  not,  Connors.  And  even  if  it 
were — you're  not  dressed  for  it. 

CONNORS.  No,  sir.  A  man  that's  used  to  his 
pajamas  wants  them,  sir,  when  he's  sleeping. 

WILTON.  Yes,  yes — and  yet  if  you  wore  pajamas 
to  a  song  recital  people  would  think  it  odd. 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  15 

CONNORS.  (Going  to  cellar ette  up  c,)  I  suppose 
they  would,  sir.  READY  door-bell. 

WILTON.  Oh,  yes — they  certainly  would,  Con 
nors.  Not  realizing  how  appropriate  the  attire 
would  be.  (Sits  wearily  in  chair.) 

CONNORS.  (Who  has  poured  out  a  glass  of 
Sherry)  Here,  sir.  This  is  very  light.  It  will  rest 
you,  sir.  (Gives  WILTON  the  glass.) 

WILTON.  Now,  if  I  could  only  put  on  my  old 
brown  velvet  smoking- jacket  for  dinner — and  change 
into  pajamas  later,  for  the  opera. 

CONNORS.  Your  old  smoking-jacket  is  in  the  hall 
closet,  sir.  It's  on  its  way  downstairs.  Mrs.  Wil 
ton  ordered  it  thrown  out. 

WILTON.     Thrown  out? 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir. 

WILTON.  Well,  Connors,  suppose  we  make  a  res 
cue.  (CONNORS  goes  out  R.U.;  returns  immediately 
with  velvet  smoking  jacket,  which  WILTON  puts  on. 
CONNORS  takes  his  coat  out  in  hallway;  comes  back 
immediately.)  You  just  put  it  back  in  my  wardrobe 
when  I  get  through  with  it. 

CONNORS.  Yes,  sir.  Oh,  Mr.  Eddie  is  expecting 
some  tickets  to-night,  sir — they'll  be  fifty  dollars — 
it's  a  prize  fight,  sir.  He  said  I  was  to  ask  you  for 
the  money. 

WILTON.  A  prize  fight!  Does  he  go  to  those 
things?  Well,  that's  rather  encouraging.  (Pulling 
out  pocketbook,  he  extracts  a  bill  and  gives  it  to 
CONNORS.,)  Is  Mr.  Eddie  dining  at  home  to-night? 

CONNORS.  He's  not  dining  at  all,  sir.  I  don't 
think  he's  feeling  quite  well. 

WILTON.    Oh!  ... 

CONNORS.  And — Miss  Marguerite  wants  to  see 
you,  too,  sir. 

WILTON.  (Hopefully)  Is  she  going  to  be  here 
for  dinner? 


16  A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

CONNORS.     She's  dining  in  her  room,  sir. 

BELL. 

f  WILTON.    Oh,  well  I  guess  this  will  do,  Connors. 
(Gives  him  another  bill.) 

CONNORS.  (Taking  bill)  Yes,  sir.  (CONNORS 
exits  into  hallway  L.U.  and  returns  immediately.) 
It's  Mr.  George  Struthers,  sir. 

WILTON.     Who  ? 

CONNORS.    Mr.  George  Struthers. 

WILTON.    He  doesn't  want  to  see  me,  does  he? 

CONNORS.    He  seems  to,  sir. 

WILTON.  Doesn't  he  want  to  see  Miss  Marguer 
ite? 

CONNORS.    He  asked  for  you,  sir. 

WILTON.    All  right,  Connors. 

(Exit  CONNORS  into  halhvay  L.U.  Enter  GEORGE 
STRUTHERS,  a  good-looking,  prosaic  young  man, 
faultlessly  dressed.) 

GEORGE.  Excuse  my  coming  in  on  you  this  way, 
Mr.  Wilton,  but  I'm  really  very  much  disturbed. 

WILTON.  (Rising)  Don't  be  disturbed  on  my  ac 
count.  Have  a  chair. 

GEORGE.  I  can't,  Mr.  Wilton.  I  can't  sit  down. 
(Sits  on  ottoman  c.)  I'm  too  upset  really.  It's 
about  Marguerite.  I  suppose  she  has  told  you  our 
engagement  is  broken. 

WILTON.  Why,  no — I  didn't  know  you  were  en 
gaged.  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you. 

GEORGE.  But  I  said  the  engagement  is  broken, 
Mr.  Wilton. 

WILTON.  Allow  me  to—  Oh,  so  you  did. 
(Sits.) 

GEORGE.  Marguerite  suits  me  exactly,  if  it  weren't 
for  a  number  of  things  that  I  should  think  you,  as 
her  father,  would  view  with  growing  concern. 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  17 

WILTON.  Really?  Perhaps  I  don't  know  them. 
I  was  saved  any  worry  about  her  engagement  to 
you  by  not  being  informed  of  it. 

GEORGE.  I  don't  understand  that.  We've  been 
engaged  for  months.  It  happened  while  we  were 
at  Hot  Springs. 

WTILTON.  You  might  have  dropped  me  a  line,  if 
you'd  thought  of  it. 

GEORGE.  I  did.  But  Marguerite  didn't  like  the 
letter,  so  she  said  she'd  write  herself. 

WILTON.  Oh,  well,  perhaps  she  will  when  she 
gets  round  to  it. 

GEORGE.  To  go  back  to  what  I  was  saying — per 
haps  you  don't  know — Marguerite  plays  cards  from 
morning  till  night.  Did  you  know  that? 

WILTON.  I  know  she  likes  bridge,  but  I  didn't 
know  the  hours  were  so  confining  as  all  that. 

GEORGE.  When  she's  not  playing  cards,  she's 
dancing  and  seeing  a  side  of  life  that  I  don't  think 
improves  a  young  girl,  Mr.  Wilton. 

WILTON.  She  can't  see  very  much  of  it,  accord 
ing  to  the  bridge  schedule  you've  laid  out  for  her. 

GEORGE.  She  plays  cards  for  money — do  you  know 
that? 

WILTON.    Yes,  I  know  that. 

GEORGE.  I  may  be  old-fashioned,  but  I  don't  think 
winning  money  at  cards  is  wholesome  for  a  young 
girl. 

WILTON.  I  don't  think  her  health  has  been  seri 
ously  undermined  by  winning  any,  do  you? 

GEORGE.  Well,  or  losing  it  either,  for  that  matter. 
You  don't  want  your  wife  throwing  money  away  in 
a  perfectly  useless  pursuit,  do  you? 

WILTON.  No.  Maybe  we  could  have  her  taught 
to  play  better. 

READY  door-bell 


18  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

GEORGE.  What  kind  of  a  wife  and  mother  is  she 
going  to  make,  Mr.  Wilton? 

WILTON.  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea,  really.  What 
do  you  think? 

GEORGE.  I  wrote  her  a  letter  this  morning — I  sup 
pose  she  has  it  by  now.  It  just  occurred  to  me  that 
if  you  would  have  a  talk  with  her 

WILTON.  I  should  be  delighted,  if  you  can  ar 
range  it.  I  rarely  see  her — my  family  is  usually 
scattered  when  I  come  home — and  as  I  leave  the 
house  before  any  of  them  are  up,  my  chances  for 
conversation  are  somewhat  limited. 

GEORGE.  I  told  her  I  was  coming  to-night  for  a 
final  understanding. 

WILTON.     Oh,  is  she  going  to  be  here? 

GEORGE.    I  don't  know,  but  I  am. 

WILTON.  Good!  Have  you  a  dinner  engage 
ment? 

GEORGE.  Yes.  I  always  dine  with  my  parents  on 
Thursday  nights,  Mr.  Wilton.  I  feel  that  I  owe  it 
to  them  to  devote  one  night  a  week  to  them. 

WILTON.  (Disappointed)  Well,  if  I  see  Mar 
guerite,  I'll  try  and  think  of  something  to  say  about 
all  these  things. 

GEORGE.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Wilton.  I'm  sure  you 
can  think  of  the  right  thing. 

WILTON.    Are  you?  DOOR.BELL. 

GEORGE.  You  have  the  reputation  of  being  a  man 
who  never  makes  a  mistake  in  talking  business. 

WILTON.    But  this  is  not  my  office,  you  know. 

(Enter  CONNORS,  L.uJ 

CONNORS.    Mr.  Belden  is  calling,  sir. 
WILTON.    Oh,  show  him  in.     (Enter  BELDEN  L.U. 
CONNORS,  after  showing  BELDEN  in,  exits  up  R.u.) 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  19 

Come  in.  How  have  you  stood  the  long  separation 
of  thirty-five  minutes?  Do  you  know  Mr.  Struth- 
ers,  Mr.  Belden? 

BELDEN.  No.  (Shakes  hands.)  I  know  Mr. 
Struthers'  father  very  well.  How  is  your  father? 

GEORGE.  Very  well,  indeed,  except  that  he  has  a 
slight  cold. 

BELDEN.     Most  remarkable  man. 

WILTON.  I  don't  see  anything  remarkable  in  that. 
Everybody  seems  to  have  one. 

BELDEN.    Your  father  is  an  old  man. 

GEORGE.  Yes,  but  have  you  ever  seen  my  grand 
father? 

BELDEN.     No. 

WILTON.  You  ought  to  see  him,  Belden.  He's 
even  older  than  his  father.  If  you  can  conceive 
of  such  a  thing. 

GEORGE.  I  think  I'll  be  going  along,  Mr.  Wilton, 
but  I'll  be  back  perhaps  later.  I  hope  you  can  do 
something  for  me. 

WILTON.  Yes,  yes,  I  hope  so.  Good  night. 
(Exit  GEORGE  L.u.j  What  is  it,  John?  (Crosses  c. 
Gets  cigars.) 

BELDEN.  I  won't  keep  you,  Henry.  Just  want 
you  to  sign  the  papers  for  Marshall  &  Whyte.  I 
didn't  realize  that  you  were  leaving  the  office. 

WILTON.  (R.  of  table)  Oh,  yes,  I  left  five  min 
utes  early  to-night.  Thought  I'd  see  how  it  seemed 
to  have  a  little  time  on  my  hands.  Have  a  chair, 
John.  Have  a  cigar. 

(WILTON  signs  papers  R.  of  table  with  pen  given 
by  BELDEN,  then  returns  papers  and  pen  to 
BELDEN.) 

BELDEN.  (L.  front  of  seat)  I  suppose  you're 
going  out  to-night  ?  (Sits.) 


20  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

WILTON.    (By  table  c.)    I  suppose  so. 

BELDEN.    Go  out  a  good  deal,  don't  you? 

WILTON.  I've  heard  a  rumor  to  that  effect.  So 
do  you.  (Sits  on  edge  of  table.) 

BELDEN.  Yes,  yes,  I  go.  Don't  care  for  it  much, 
but  feel  I  must. 

WILTON.     Why? 

BELDEN.     Well,  don't  you? 

WILTON.    Not  exactly  "must." 

BELDEN.     How's  Mrs.  Wilton? 

WILTON.  Emmy?  Always  well,  I'm  glad  to  say. 
And  Mrs.  Belden? 

BELDEN.  She's  at  Hot  Springs.  I  felt  that  7 
needed  the  rest. 

WILTON.    I  see. 

BELDEN.    Anything  on  your  mind? 

WILTON.    Nothing  to  speak  of. 

BELDEN.  You  don't  seem  quite  like  yourself  this 
evening. 

WILTON.    Don't  I? 


BELDEN.    Was  there  anything- 


WILTON.  Now  we're  talking  about  it,  I'd  like 
to This  is  hardly  business  you  know. 

BELDEN.    Well,  what  of  that? 

WILTON.  Well,  we've  had  hardly  anything  but 
business  between  us,  you  know,  all  these  years. 

BELDEN.  Why,  you  can't  mean  that,  Henry.  Mrs. 
Belden  and  I  have  dined  with  you  and  you  with  us 
and  we 

WILTON.  Oh,  I  know — dinners  and  calls — but 
we've  never  said  anything  about  the  real  things. 

BELDEN.     Real  things? 

WILTON.     Yes ;  life  and  all  that. 

BELDEN.  Oh,  life.  Was  there  anything  special 
about  life,  Henry? 

WILTON.  Yes,  I  was  wondering,  Belden,  if  you — 
if  you — ever  have  the  feeling  that  your  wife — and — 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  21 

family  of  course— that— they  value  you  at  all  ex 
cept — 

BELDEN.    Value  you? 

WILTON  (Sits  R.  of  table.)  Now  wait,  wait. 
I'm  going  to  get  this  thing  right,  now  that  I  ve 
started.  It  isn't  easy  to  talk  about.  Do  you  ever 
have  the  feeling  that  they  care  for  you  only  as  the 
one  who  supplies  everything?  Just  the  money- 
making  machine,  and  all  that?  . 

BELDEN.  Why,  I— well,  yes,  I  have  thought  of  it, 
hut  I  never  let  it  trouble  me.  Do  you? 

WILTON.    Oh,  well,  we  can't  always  help  thinking, 

you  know.  _,.  t       ( 

BELDEN.     Why,   of   course  you  can. 
something  else. 

WILTON.     Wrhat  else  is  there? 

BELDEN.    Serious  as  all  that,  is  it? 

WILTON.    Well,  it  troubles  me  some.     Foolish,  1 

dare  say. 

BELDEN.    It  certainly  is,  Henry. 

WILTON  You  see,  it's  a  little  different  with  me. 
She's  so  young  and  I  thought  at  the  time  that  it 
might  be  a  mistake  for  me  to  marry  again. 

BELDEN.    No  more  a  mistake  than  for  anyone  to 
marry  anybody.     No,  we  have  to  take  life  as  i 
comes,   Henry.     If   they  value  us  merely  as  pro 
viders,  the  thing  is  to  be  good  ones. 

WILTON.     Yes,  we  can  always  do  that. 

BELDEN.     Yes,  we  certainly  can  always  do  that. 
No  use  brooding  over  these  things,  and 
lots  of  the  time  that  we  think  that  they  re  thinking 
all  sorts  of  things,  they're  not  thinking  at  all. 

WILTON.    You  think  there's  a  chance  of  that? 

READY  door-bell 

BELDEN.     I'm  sure  of  it;  so  why  worry? 
WILTON.     Exactly.     Why  worry? 
BELDEN.     Good-night,  Henry.     (Rising.) 


22  A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

WILTON.    Good-night,  John.     (Rising.) 
(Exit  BELDEN,  L.U.    Enter  CONNORS  R.U.) 

WILTON.  I  certainly  would  like  to  stay  at  home 
to-night,  Connors,  but  not  alone.  I  wonder  how 
people  arrange  with  their  families  to  do  it.  Have 
you  any  idea?  How  was  it  with  you — your  father 
— and  mother — did  they 

CONNORS.  Well  sir,  of  course,  for  the  poor,  it's 
a  very  simple  matter.  They've  no  money  to  spend 
and  they  don't  get  to  go  very  often,  so  they  stay  at 
home  more  or  less  together. 

WILTON.  Hm— "they  don't  get  to  go  very  often." 
They  don't  know,  I  suppose,  how  fortunate  they  are. 

BELL. 

CONNORS.     No,  sir,  I  suppose  not. 

WILTON.  (Crossing  to  fireplace)  "The  poor  don't 
get  to  go  very  often." 

(Exit  CONNORS  L.U.     Returns  immediately.) 

CONNORS.  It's  Mr.  Rafaelo  calling,  sir.  He  says 
in  case  you  decide  not  to  dine  out,  he  will  take  Mrs. 
Wilton. 

WILTON.  Oh,  Mr.  Rafaelo.  I  want  to  see  him. 
Show  him  in. 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir. 

(CONNORS  exits  R.U.,  after  showing  RAFAELO  in  L.uJ 

RAFAELO.    (c.)    Ah,  Mr.  Weelton,  good  evening. 

WILTON.     (R.)     Good  evening,  Mr.  Rafaelo. 

RAFAELO.  It  is  since  some  time  I  have  seen  you. 
But  nearly  every  day  Mrs.  Weelton  in  my  studio 
say  you  are  splendeed — busy — always  busy  making 
the  great  piles  of  monee. 

WILTON.     Yes.     How's  the  picture  coming  on? 

RAFAELO.     Very  well,  I  think,  Mr.  Weelton. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  23 

WILTON.  Do  you  find  that  Mrs.  Wilton  has 
changed  much  since  you  began  it?  Let  me  see — 
how  long  ago  was  it? 

RAFAELO.  It  is — er — well — I  think  another  month 
it  will  be  completed. 

WILTON.    Another  month  ? 

RAFAELO.  You  see,  Mr.  Weelton,  of  all  the  sub 
ject  I  have  put  on  the  canvas,  Mrs.  Weelton  is  most 
difBcult  lady.  She  change  so — so  variable  the  face. 
One  day  so  gay  an'  happy,  come  uno  bambino,  like 
a  child,  and  then  so  sad — like  the  Madonna. 

WILTON.  Oh!  That  must  be  very  trying  for 
you. 

RAFAELO.     You  do  not  notice  eet,  perhaps. 

WILTON.  Well,  you  see,  Rafaelo,  I'm  a  very  busy 
man.  I  don't  have  time  to  sit  and  look  at  Mrs. 
Wilton  steadily  for  two  hours  and  a  half  a  day, 
much  as  I  should  like  to  do  so. 

RAFAELO.  That  is  where  I  have  the  advantage. 
7  can  look  at  Mrs.  Weelton  and  make  monee. 

WILTON.  Yes,  that's  where  you  have  the  advan 
tage.  You  can  look  at  her. 

RAFAELO.  I  wish  you  could  see  the  picture,  Mr. 
Weelton,  before  it  is  finished. 

WILTON.    I  wish  I  could  see  it  after  it's  finished. 

RAFAELO.  Ah,  well,  I  thought  perhaps  you  might 
make  a  suggestion. 

WILTON.  The  only  suggestion  I  can  make  is 
your  signature. 

RAFAELO.    Grazio. 

WILTON.  I  think  Mrs.  Wilton  has  been  looking 
rather  pale  lately.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the  air 
in  your  studio  might  account  for  it — the  turpentine, 
you  know. 

RAFAELO.  Oh,  but  that  is  a  nice,  clean  smell,  Mr. 
Weelton. 

WILTON.     So  are  chloroform  and  ether. 


24  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

RAFAELO.  Well,  eet  is  coming  Spring — I  can 
open  more  the  windows.  And  now  to  explain  why 
I  am  here.  Do  you  dine  at  Mrs.  Longley's  to 
night?  Do  you  take  Mrs.  Weelton? 

WILTON.     If  she  goes,  yes. 

RAFAELO.     Oh,  she  goes.     She  goes. 

WILTON.    She  does.    Very  well — very  well. 

RAFAELO.  So  if  you — er — for  any  reason  cannot 
go,  I  take  her  with  a  great  pleasure. 

WILTON.  (Pleasantly)  I  see.  Well,  perhaps 
some  other  time  you  can  have  that  pleasure. 

RAFAELO.  (Hesitating,  disappointed)  Then — I 
will  see  you  later.  (Goes  up  L.) 

READY  door-bell. 

WILTON.    Yes — quite  so. 

RAFAELO.  (Hesitating,  turns)  You  will  see  Mrs. 
Weelton,  of  course— and  explain. 

WILTON.     Explain  ? 

RAFAELO.    Yes — you  will  explain  my  absence. 

WILTON.  Well,  I'll  explain  my  presence — per 
haps  that  will  do  just  as  well.  (Smiling.) 

RAFAELO.  (A  little  confused,  looking  a^  WILTON J 
Then,  for  a  little  while,  a  rivederci.  (Exits  L.uJ 

WILTON.  Yes,  indeed.  A  river  ditch  or  what 
ever  it  is. 

(Enter  CONNORS  down  c.) 

WILTON.  (To  CONNORSJ  Connors,  if  by  any 
chance  the  family  should  dine  at  home  to-night, 
there'd  be  some  dinner,  I  suppose? 

CONNORS.  Oh,  dear,  yes,  sir.  Lizzie  has  a  fine 
dinner  every  night,  just  on  the  chance  that  some 
body  might  be  home. 

WILTON.  Well,  you  tell  Lizzie  that  there  s  just 
a  chance  to-night.  One  chance  in  a  hundred.  W< 
must  never  be  sure  of  anything. 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  25 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir.     (Exits  R.uJ 
WILTON.    (Thoughtfully)    "The  poor  don't  get  to 
go  very  often."  BELL  rings. 

( WILTON  exits  R.u.  and  goes  up  stairs.  CONNORS 
crosses  in  hallway  from  R.  to  LV  passing  left 
door.  Enter  CONNORS  and  CLARENCE  RIVERS. 
CLARENCE  has  a  paper  parcel  containing  roses.) 

CLARENCE.  Good  evening,  Connors.  (Puts  flow 
ers  on  table  c.) 

CONNORS.  (A  little  surprised)  Good  evening, 
Mr.  Rivers — er — who  did  you  wish  to  see,  sir? 

CLARENCE.  (Easily)  Oh,  nobody  in  particular. 
I've  come  to  dinner,  Connors.  You  can  take  my 
coat,  if  you  will.  I'm  a  little  early,  so  you  needn't 
announce  me. 

CONNORS.  (Taking  the  coat)  Yes,  sir.  Do  they 
expect  you,  sir? 

CLARENCE.  Why,  I  suppose  so.  Have  you  any 
reason  to  suppose  that  they  don't,  Connors  ? 

CONNORS.  No,  sir — only  that  Miss  Marguerite 
is  dining  in  her  room,  Mr.  Eddie  has  left  orders  not 
to  wake  him  until  nine,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilton 
are  dining  out,  sir. 

CLARENCE.  Oh,  well,  in  that  case,  I'll  have  my 
coat. 

CONNORS.  (Helping  him  on  with  it)  I'm  very 
sorry,  Mr.  Rivers. 

CLARENCE.  Oh,  that's  quite  all  righ^,  Connors. 
They've  forgotten  all  about  it. 

CONNORS.  The  engagement  was  made  some  time 
ago,  sir? 

CLARENCE.    Oh,  yes — day  before  yesterday. 

CONNORS.  Well  really,  sir,  it's  too  bad.  Shall  I 
tell  Miss  Marguerite  that  you  called? 

CLARENCE.  On  the  whole,  I  believe  I  wouldn't, 
Connors. 


26  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

CONNORS.  Perhaps  you're  right,  sir.  It  might 
spoil  her  evening. 

CLARENCE.  Oh,  if  it  would,  I'd  insist  on  your 
telling  her.  But  it  wouldn't.  No,  Connors — she'd 
just  say :  "How  fortunate  it  was  only  Clarence  Riv 
ers." 

CONNORS.    Perhaps  you're  right,  sir. 

CLARENCE.    Of  course  I'm  right. 

CONNORS.  You're  welcome  to  stay  if  you  like, 
sir.  There'll  be  dinner,  you  know,  even  if  no  one 
is  here. 

CLARENCE.  Thanks,  Connors,  but  I'm  afraid  I'd 
be  lonely.  By  Jove,  I  think  someone  else  is  coming, 
too.  Miss  Partington  was  asked  at  the  same  time 
I  was. 

CONNORS.  I  don't  think  she'll  be  coming,  sir.  I 
overheard,  quite  accidentally,  that  she — that  they — 
that  the  engagement  was  broken  off  this  afternoon, 
sir.  Her  and  Mr.  Eddie,  you  know. 

CLARENCE.  Oh,  I  don't  think  that  would  make 
any  difference  about  her  coming  to  dinner,  Connors. 

CONNORS.     Don't  you,  sir? 

CLARENCE.  No,  I'll  just  drop  around  and  tell  her 
that  they're  all  asleep  and  dining  out  and  so  forth. 

CONNORS.  (Giving  him  his  hat)  It's  too  bad 
to  put  you  to  that  trouble,  sir.  Maybe  you  will  dine 
there. 

CLARENCE.  Yes,  that's  a  good  idea.  (Goes^  to 
table  and  gets  flowers.)  Thanks  for  the  suggestion, 
Connors.  Good  night.  (Exits  L.u.j 

(Enter  WILTON  down  stairs  and  in  R.  door.) 

WILTON.  (R.C.)  Connors,  the  chances  of  our 
staying  at  home  are  improving.  What  did  Lizzie 
say? 

CONNORS,  (c.)  She  didn't  say  anything,  sir — 
she  just  looked. 


A   SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  27 

WILTON.  And  are  we  to  interpret  that  look  as  a 
favorable  symptom? 

CONNORS.     She  was  very  much  pleased,  sir. 

WILTON.  Well,  that's  good.  Oh,  Connors,  ask 
Mrs.  Wilton  to  come  here  for  a  moment. 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir.    (Exits  U.R.,  going  up  stairs.) 

WILTON.  (Going  L.  of  table)  "The  poor  don't 
get  to  go,  very  often."  (Brings  his  hand  softly 
down  on  the  table  as  though  an  idea  has  crystallised 
in  his  mind.) 

(Enter  EMMIE  R.U.  from  upstairs.  She  wears  a 
negligee  and  her  hair  is  in  curls  on  her  shoul 
ders.) 

EMMIE.  (Down  c.J  Goodness,  Harry,  what's  the 
matter?  I  was  just  having  my  hair  done. 

WILTON.  (Looking  at  her)  It  looks  so  pretty 
that  way. 

EMMIE.  Connors  said  you  wanted  to  speak  to 
me;  do  you? 

WILTON.     Yes — yes,  dear — I  do. 

EMMIE.  Is  anything  the  matter,  Harry,  that  you 
couldn't  come  upstairs  ? 

WILTON.     I  wanted  to  see  you  alone. 

EMMIE.  Well,  hurry,  then,  because  I  mustn't 
keep  Strogelberg.  He  has  millions  of  people  to  do. 

WILTON.     Who  is  Strogelberg? 

EMMIE.    He's  the  man  who  does  my  hair. 

WILTON.  Tell  him  to  go  away.  Wear  your  hair 
as  it  is  to-night — it's  more  fitting. 

EMMIE.    More  fitting? 

WILTON.  Yes — that's  what  I  said — more  fitting. 
We're  not  going  out. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  but  we  are.  We're  going  to  dinner 
at  the  Longley's.  And  then  to  the  Opera,  and  then 
to  a  reception  at  the  Briscoe's  for  some  cousin  of 
theirs  who's  invented  something  or  other,  something 
that  explodes.  He's  going  to  tell  us  about  it. 


28  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

WILTON.  (Calmly)  My  dear  child,  we  don't 
need  to  go  out  of  our  own  house  to-night,  to  hear 
about  things  that  explode. 

EMMIE.     Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Harry? 

WALTON.    I'm  ruined,  Emmie — that's  all. 

EMMIE.  Ruined!  (He  nods.)  But  how  can  you 
be  ruined?  You  can't  be  really  ruined.  You  don't 
mean  that  you're  really  ruined,  Harry? 

WILTON.  Don't  keep  saying  it  over  like  that — 
will  you? 

EMMIE.  No — I  won't — but  ruined — I  can't  be 
lieve  it — it's  so  sudden. 

WILTON.     Well,  that's  the  way  those  things  are. 

EMMIE.  Well,  of  course,  if  we're  ruined — really 
ruined — we  can't  do  anything.  (Sits  ottoman.)  ^ 

WILTON.  No,  we  can't  do  anything.  (Crossing 
to  fireplace.)  Well,  we  can  have  dinner. 

EMMIE.     Where? 

WILTON.  Here.  It's  all  ready  and  no  extra  ex 
pense  to  eat  it. 

EMMIE.  Ruined.  .  .  .  Are  you  going  to  tell 
anybody,  Harry  ? 

WILTON.    I  don't  think  it  will  be  necessary. 

EMMIE.  Ruined !  It  doesn't  seem  like  us,  Harry. 
Are  you  sure?  Mightn't  there  be  some  mistake? 

WILTON.  (At  fireplace)  Haven't  you  any  confi 
dence  in  me  at  all  ? 

EMMIE.  Of  course  I  have,  Harry.  ^  You  must 
know — you  know  everything  about  business.  Yes, 
I  believe  you.  But  I  wish  I'd  known  it  this  morn 
ing.  I  made  so  many  engagements.  And  I  went  to 
so  many  shops. 

WILTON.     Oh  well,  never  mind. 

EMMIE.  (Rises)  Oh,  how  I  wish  now  I'd 
kept  all  the  things  I've  seen  about  what  people  can 
live  on.  We've  been  a  terribly  expensive  family 
the  past  year,  Harry.  My  being  at  Palm  Beach  so 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  29 

long,  and  Marguerite  at  Hot  Springs,and  Eddie  in 
Canada  studying  aviation.  And  Kathrine  Longley 
says  the  cost  of  living  alone  is  going  up  so.  ... 

WILTON.  Well,  we'll  try  living  together  for  a 
while. 

EMMIE.  (Goes  to  him)  Ruined! — Will  it  be  in 
the  papers,  Harry? 

WILTON.     Not  yet  a  while. 

EMMIE.  I'm  glad.  It  will  be  nice  to  have  the 
first  few  days  quietly  together.  (Suddenly)  Harry ! 
Isn't  it  a  good  thing  we  bought  the  new  car — for 
now  we  can  sell  it  and  get  almost  as  much  as  we 
paid  for  it ! 

WILTON.  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  What  a  pity 
I  didn't  buy  a  half  a  dozen  of  them. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  well,  we'll  think  of  lots  of  things 
to  do.  (Encouragingly)  You  know,  I  think  the 
important  thing  about  being  ruined,  Harry,  is  not 
to  get  frightened.  And  somehow,  I  don't  feel  afraid 
a  bit  about  being  ruined — as  long  as  I'm  ruined  with 
you. 

WILTON.  (Pleased)  Why,  of  course — there's  no 
use  getting  up  a  lot  of  excitement  about  it. 

EMMIE.  (Agreeing)  No,  for  then  you  can't  do 
anything.  It  might  even  be  better  for  us  to  go  out 
to-night,  Harry,  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

WILTON.  No,  no — I  don't  think  we'd  better  do 
that. 

EMMIE.  No.  I  don't  want  to,  either.  I  was  just 
thinking  of  the  looks  of  it.  Oh,  I  must  tell  Strogel- 
berg  to  go.  Now,  isn't  it  fortunate — I've  saved 
three  dollars  not  having  my  hair  done! 

WILTON.  Three  dollars !  Well,  we're  getting  on 
splendidly. 

EMMIE.  And  I  must  telephone  Katherine  Long- 
ley.  Shall  I  tell  her,  Harry? 


30  A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

WILTON.  Why  not  say  you'll  explain  later — or 
/'//  explain  later. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  yes — it  would  please  Katherine  so 
if  you  would,  Harry. 

WILTON.    Do  you  think  so? 

READY  telephone. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  yes— I  know  it.  She'd  be  so  flat- 
tered  to  have  you  talking  business  to  her,  Harry. 
Anyone  would.  I  know — I'll  send  word  by  Pietro 
that  we're  not  coming  and  that  you'll  explain  later. 
Pietro  is  coming  for  me,  in  case  you  wouldn't  go. 

WILTON.     If  you  mean  Mr.  Rafaelo,  he  came. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  did  he?  Do  you  mind  my  calling 
him  Pietro,  Harry? 

WILTON.  I  don't  know— I  hadn't  thought  about 
it.  Perhaps  I  do. 

EMMIE.  You  wouldn't  if  you  knew  how  well  ac 
quainted  we  are !  (Telephone  bell.)  It's  really  quite 
all  right.  You  don't  realize  how  much  I've  seen 
him.  What  did  you  say  to  him,  Harry? 

('CONNORS  enters  and  goes  to  telephone.) 

WILTON.    We  talked  about  the  picture. 

EMMIE.     Oh— and  will  he  explain  to  Katherine? 

CONNORS.  (Down  a  bit)  Mrs.  Longley  on  the 
telephone,  Madam. 

WILTON.  Tell  her  we're  unavoidably  detained  at 
home,  Connors.  (Sits  R.  at  fireplace  ) 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir.    (Goes  to  telephone.)   Hello! 
Mrs.  Longley?     Mr.  Wilton   told  me  to  say  that 
they  are  unavoidably  detained  at  home  to  dinner 
Yes,  Madam.     I  will  ask,  Madam,  but  I'm  afraid 
it's    no   use.     (To    WILTON    and   EMMIE; 
greatly  disturbed  about  the  two  chairs. 
'  WILTON.    (R.J     Chairs? 

CONNORS.    The  absence  of  two  chairs,  sir. 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  31 

WILTON.  Well,  can't  we  send  her  over  a  couple 
of  chairs? 

EMMIE,  (c.)  Two  vacant  chairs  at  a  dinner, 
Harry — it  really  is  dreadful. 

CONNORS.  (Remaining  at  phone)  I  was  just 
thinking,  Madam — Mr.  Rivers  dropped  in  here  to 
dinner — he  and  Miss  Partington  in  some  way  thought 
they  were  expected — if  they  would  help  Mrs.  Long- 
ley  out.  I  know  they've  no  other  engagement. 

WILTON.    An  excellent  idea,  I  should  say. 

EMMIE.  Do  you  really  think  it  would  do?  I 
don't  think  Katherine  has  ever  met  Clarence  Rivers. 

WILTON.     Well,  that's  all  the  better. 

EMMIE.  But  she  knows  the  Partingtons.  Shall 
I  tell  her?  (Starts  to  phone.) 

WILTON.    Why  not  let  Connors  do  it  ?    He's  there. 

EMMIE.  All  right — but  be  sure  and  say  how 
amusing  Mr.  Rivers  is,  Connors.  (Crosses  down 
L.J 

CONNORS.  (At  the  phone)  Mrs.  Longley?  Mrs. 
Wilton  suggested  two  friends  to  occupy  the  chairs- 
yes,  Madam — Mr.  Rivers,  a  very  amusing  gentle 
man,  who  is  dining  out  to-night,  and  Miss  Parting- 
ton.  The  phone  is  8000  River.  (To  EMMIE,)  She 
doesn't  seem  pleased. 

EMMIE.    Well,  we've  done  the  best  we  can. 

(Enter  MARGUERITE  R.U.  in  negligee.) 

MARGUERITE.     (Going  to  WILTON;     Father,  this 
won't  be  enough.     (Holding   out  bill)      I'm  going 
to  play  bridge  for  charity  to-night  at  the  Wolcott's. 
_^  EMMIE.     (Snatching  at  the  bill)     Give  it  to  me. 
Got  any  more? 

MARGUERITE.  (Surprised,  letting  her  have  it) 
Why,  Sweetie — what's  the  matter? 

EMMIE.    The  matter  is,  that  your  father  is  ruined. 


32  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

Don't  make  a  fuss  about  it,  for  we've  decided  not  to. 
Don't  say  anything,  Harry,  until  I  come  back.  (Exits, 
running  upstairs  R.uJ 

MARGUERITE.  Father,  it's  not  true,  is  it?  (Cross 
ing  to  seat  and  looking  into  his  face.)  Oh,  you  poor 
darling — and  you  kept  it  from  us  all  the  time. 

WILTON.    No,  no — it  was  all  quite  sudden. 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  no,  dear — you  must  have 
known  it  for  weeks.  Oh,  how  beautifully  you  be 
have  about  it ! 

WILTON.     So  do  you. 

MARGUERITE.  What  did  Sweetie  say  when  you 
told  her? 

WILTON.  She  was  splendid,  really.  Very  en 
couraging. 

MARGUERITE.    It's  surprising,  isn't  it? 

WILTON.    Is  it? 

MARGUERITE.  Yes,  because  she's  not  related  to 
you  like  Eddie  and  me. 

WILTON.  Not  in  the  same  way,  of  course.  Do 
you  think  Eddie  will  be  all  right  about  it  ? 

MARGUERITE.  Of  course — why  shouldn't  he  be? 
When  youVe  worked  so  and  done  everything  for  us 
and  given  us  everything! 

WILTON.     Wrhy,  I  didn't  think  you'd  noticed  that. 

MARGUERITE.  Let  Eddie  go  to  work — it  will  do 
him  good. 

WILTON.  It  seems  rather  a  large  order  for  Eddie 
— to  take  care  of  us  all — doesn't  it? 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  help 
him,  if  he'll  do  something  that  I  understand.  We 
might  give  riding  lessons. 

WILTON.     Yes.     If  you  can  find  any  pupils  able 
to  keep  up  with  you—         By  the  way,  Peggy— 
(Catching  himself)    Oh,  you  don't  like  to  be  called 
Peggy,  do  you? 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY          33 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  yes,  if  we're  ruined,  darling, 
you  can  call  me  anything. 

WILTON.  I  was  going  to  say,  George  Struthers 
came 

MARGUERITE.    Did  he  ? 

WILTON.  I  didn't  know  about  your  engagement, 
did  I? 

MARGUERITE.  Didn't  you?  No,  I  suppose  you 
didn't.  Well,  we  were. 

WILTON.    So  he  said. 

MARGUERITE.  It  happened  at  Hot  Springs.  It  was 
awfully  stupid  there  and  George  seemed  to  think  it 
would  be  a  good  idea. 

WILTON.  He  said  something  about  writing  me  a 
letter. 

MARGUERITE.  Yes — he  wrote  you  a  terribly  long 
letter.  I  was  afraid  it  would  make  you  take  a  dis 
like  to  him,  Father,  so  I  persuaded  him  not  to 
send  it. 

WILTON.  Oh,  you  didn't  want  me  to  take  a  dis 
like  to  him? 

MARGUERITE.     Not  then. 

WILTON.    And  now? 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  of  course  there's  more  to  do 
in  town.  Did  George  say  anything  about  me? 

WILTON.  He  said  he  was  coming  to-night,  but  I 
didn't  know  whether  you  were  going  out  or  not. 
Are  you? 

MARGUERITE.  Of  course  I  won't  go  out.  I'll 
have  dinner  with  you  and  Sweetie.  You  must  eat, 
you  know,  darling.  You  will,  won't  you? 

(EDDIE  enters  R.U.  in  bathrobe,  followed  by  EMMIE, 
who  has  told  him  the  news,  coming  hurriedly 
down  the  stairway.) 

EDDIE.  (Going  to  WILTON,)  What's  this  I  hear, 
Dad? 


34  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

EMMIE.    I  told  him,  Harry. 

EDDIE.  (His  arm  round  WILTON^)  Now,  listen — 
don't  you  worry — I'll  go  right  to  work  to-morrow. 
Old  Partington's  crazy  to  have  me  in  his  office. 

WILTON.    (Smiling)    He  certainly  is. 

EDDIE.  Maybe  you  don't  think  I'm  cut  out  for 
business.  But  you  watch  me,  Dad — and  while  I'm 

about  it (Pulls  bill  out  of  his  pocket  that  was 

given  him  for  the  tickets.    EMMIE  seises  it.) 

EMMIE.  Give  it  to  me.  We  ought  to  have  an  old 
shoe  or  something,  to  put  it  in.  Isn't  that  what 
people  do?  That  makes  a  hundred,  Harry. 

WILTON.  One  hundred  and  three — don't  forget 
old  Strogelberg. 

EDDIE.  I  can  take  care  of  all  of  you — if  not  in 
the  style  you're  accustomed  to,  some  other  kind. 
And  I'll  work  up — Father  knows  it  can  be  done. 
There's  nothing  small  about  you,  Dad.  You  must 
have  failed  for  at  least  fifty  million  dollars. 

EMMIE.  Think  of  starting  with  nothing  at  all  and 
failing  for  fifty  million  dollars!  It's  simply  mag 
nificent  ! 

WILTON.  Really,  you  embarrass  me.  Do  you 
think,  perhaps,  I'm  the  greatest  failure  in  the  world  ? 

EDDIE.     Why,  of  course,  Dad.     Nothing  to  it. 

MARGUERITE.  Father,  you  do  everything  better 
than  anyone  else. 

WILTON.  Why,  this  is  delightful.  I'd  no  idea 
you'd  all  appreciate  it  like  this.  This  is  really  one 
of  the  most  delightful — I  mean  under  the  circum 
stances. 

EMMIE.  I  suppose  we'll  go  and  live  in  the  coun 
try,  Harry.  I  should  think  an  abandoned  farm  would 
be  just  the  very  thing  for  us. 

MARGUERITE.  Yes — you  can  get  them  for  noth 
ing,  Father,  up  in  Connecticut. 


A  SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  35 

EMMIE.  Maybe  you  wouldn't  like  an  abandoned 
farm,  Harry? 

WILTON.  Well,  I  would  like  it  if  it  were  suffi 
ciently  abandoned — it  might  be  a  little  hard  for 
Eddie  to  commute  from  an  abandoned  farm. 

EDDIE.  Oh,  well,  I  can  stay  at  the  Turkish  bath — 
except  Sundays.  There'll  be  trains  I  can  get  to  the 
farm  Sunday  morning  and  come  back  Sunday  night. 

EMMIE.  We  can  raise  all  kinds  of  things,  Harry, 
and  now  that  eggs  have  gone  up  so,  why  not  keep 
chickens  ? 

WILTON.  Yes,  if  we  could  persuade  them  to  stay. 
I  thought  perhaps  their  ideas  had  gone  up  with  the 
eggs  and  that  they  might  not  be  satisfied  with  any 
thing  less  than  an  apartment  in  town. 

MARGUERITE.  In  lots  of  ways  it  will  be  a  sort  of 
relief.  Just  think,  Eddie — we  won't  have  to  take 
part  in  those  dances  for  chanty — the  Foundlings 
Home  things. 

EDDIE.     That's  right. 

WILTON.  I  never  could  understand  dancing  while 
you're  thinking  of  those  poor  little  foundlings? 

EMMIE.  You  don't  think  of  them,  Harry.  Don't 
you  see?  You  don't  have  to  think  of  them,  because 
you've  paid  five  dollars. 

WILTON.  Oh,  I  see — very  reasonable,  too.  To 
be  able  to  stop  thinking  for  five  dollars. 

EMMIE.  I  think  we  should  dress,  Marguerite. 
We  must  think  of  the  servants. 

(EMMIE  and  MARGUERITE  exit  and  go  upstairs.) 

EDDIE.  I'm  going  to  phone  Julie — if  I've  re 
formed,  she  ought  to  know  it.  (Goes  to  phone.  At 
phone)  Give  me  8000  River.  Is  Miss  Partington 
in?  (To  WILTON )  Julie  and  I  are  engaged,  you 
know,  Father. 


36  A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY 

READY  curtain. 

WILTON.     No — really? 

EDDIE.  That  is,  we  were — maybe  we're  not — I 
don't  know. 

WILTON.     Let  me  know  when  you  find  out. 

EDDIE.  Hello — hello,  Julie.  All  right.  How  are 
you?  Just  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I've  cut  out 
everything  you  don't  like.  Yes — I've  cut  her  out, 
too.  (  WILTON  goes  up  and  rings  bell  R.  of  R.u. 
arch.)  Now  listen,  Julie — I  know — I  know  all  that 
— but  will  you  listen.  Just  listen.  (Disgusted.) 
All  right,  I'm  listening. 

(Enter  CONNORS  R.u.J 

WILTON.  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you  that  we'll  all 
be  here  for  dinner,  Connors. 

EDDIE.     (In  phone)     But  I  can  explain  that. 

CONNORS.  Yes,  sir.  Very  good,  sir.  Lizzie  will 
be  pleased.  She  was  just  saying  what  fine  broilers 
came  in  from  the  country. 

EDDIE.  (In  phone)  Well,  of  course,  if  you  won't 
let  me. 

WILTON.  Yes.  It — er — it  really  looks  as  though 
I'm  going  to  have  a  quiet  evening  at  home,  Con 
nors. 

CONNORS.    (Smiling)    Yes,  sir. 

(Exit  WILTON  and  CONNORS  R.u.J 

EDDIE.  (In  phone)  Well,  how  do  you  know 
something  hasn't  happened — I  guess  you'll  think  so 
when  you  hear  what  it  is.  I've  got  the  whole  fam 
ily  to  take  care  of — and  I'm  glad  to  do  it,  but  I 
would  like  a  little  appreciation. 

(CONNORS  enters  with  dinner  gong  R.U.,  which  he 
beats  cheerfully.) 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  37 

EDDIE.  (In  phone)  I  say  I've  got  the  whole  fam 
ily  to  take  care  of.  Of  course  I  can.  (CONNORS, 
shocked,  stops.)  I  do  mean  it — my  father  is  ruined. 
Good-bye.  (To  CONNORS^  That's  not  dinner,  Con 
nors? 

CONNORS.  The  dressing  bell,  sir.  Dinner  in  half 
an  hour. 

(EDDIE  dashes  past  him  up  the  stairs.     CONNORS, 
beats  dinner  gong  three  sad  slow  strokes.) 

CURTAIN 


ACT    I 
SCENE  2 :  The  same.    Later  in  the  evening. 

(On  rise  enter  CONNORS  R.U.  He  has  letters  in  his 
hand  which  he  lays  on  a  silver  tray  on  table  c. 
Enter  ALBERTINE  R.U  J 

ALBERTINE.  (Softly)  Connors — Meestaire  Con 
nors. 

CONNORS.     (L.  of  table)     Oh,  Albertine? 

ALBERTINE.  (R.  of  T.,  coming  down)  Connors, 
I  'ope  we  get  our  money. 

CONNORS.    What  do  you  mean,  "get  our  money "? 

ALBERTINE.  'Aven't  you  'card?  Then  I'll  tell 
you — Meestaire  Weelton  is  rueened ! 

CONNORS.  Come,  Albertine — run  upstairs,  do. 
Before  anyone  hears  you. 

ALBERTINE.  I  heard  them  say  eet — it  is  true. 
An*  that  is  w'y  they  stay  for  dinner.  Meestaire 
Strogelberg  he  is  told  "do  not  come  again."  Madame 
weel  fix  her  own  hair !  Eet  is  true  !  Rueened ! 

CONNORS.    I  can't  be  talking  to  you  like  this 

ALBERTINE.  Madame  tell  Meestaire  Eddie — 
"Your  father  is  rueened."  Eet  is  true ! 

CONNORS.  You  should  never  know  things  until 
you're  told,  Albertine. 

ALBERTINE.  I  have  known  eet  in  some  place  be 
fore.  They  live  so  extravagant.  The  women  think 
"we  are  safe,"  but  all  the  time  she  sit  on  a  volcano. 

38 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  39 

CONNORS.  (Nervously)  Come,  come — you  mustn't, 
really. 

READY  door-bell. 

ALBERTINE.  I  'ope  I  get  my  money — I  am  going. 
The  wise  rat,  she  leave  the  sinking  ship  before  he 
go  down.  (Goes  up  to  R.u.J 

CONNORS.  Well — I'm  not  a  wise  rat,  my  girl,  I'm 
glad  to  say. 

ALBERTINE.    Well,  I  am.     (Exits  R.u.J 

(MARGUERITE  enters  and  watches  ALBERTINE  exit.) 

MARGUERITE.  I  suppose  Albertine  has  told  you, 
Connors.  I  knew  she  was  listening  upstairs.  I  sup 
pose  she's  going.  Well,  no  one  cares  if  she  does. 

CONNORS.  Oh,  Miss — is  it  true?  About  your 
father? 

MARGUERITE.  Yes,  Connors,  it  is.  But  you 
mustn't  worry  him,  will  you  ? 

CONNORS.  (Disturbed)  I  worry  him?  Oh,  no, 
Miss. 

MARGUERITE.  Father  thinks  so  much  of  you,  Con 
nors.  I  thought  perhaps  he  might  have  told  you. 

CONNORS.    No,  Miss,  he  didn't. 

MARGUERITE.    We  didn't  know  until  to-night. 

(Door-bell  rings.     MARGUERITE  crosses  L.     CON 
NORS  exits  L.u.J 

GEORGE.  (In  hallway)  Is  Miss  Marguerite  at 
home? 

CONNORS.     (In  hallway)    I'll  see,  sir. 

MARGUERITE.    Come  in,  George. 

GEORGE.  (Enters  L.U.  CONNORS  exits  L.J  I  just 
dropped  in  for  a  moment,  Marguerite.  Aren't  you 
going  out?  (Leaves  hat  and  plans  on  console  table.) 

MARGUERITE.    No — I'm  not. 


40  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

GEORGE.  (Down)  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
the  Wolcott's  to  play  bridge. 

MARGUERITE.  (Crosses  and  sits  sofa  L.C.  Sweet 
ly)  Did  you? 

GEORGE.  (Down  to  L.  of  table)  Marguerite — 
was  it  because  of  what  I  said  that  you  decided  not 
to  go? 

MARGUERITE.    What  did  you  say? 

GEORGE.  I  said  I  didn't  like  your  playing  cards 
for  money. 

MARGUERITE.     Did  you  say  it  to  me? 

GEORGE.    No,  I  said  it  to  Mr.  Wilton. 

MARGUERITE.     Hoping  he'd  tell  me? 

GEORGE.     Yes. 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  he  didn't.  He  doesn't  talk 
about  people  behind  their  backs. 

GEORGE.  Doesn't  he?  Well,  why  don't  you  try 
and  be  like  him? 

MARGUERITE.    What  do  you  mean? 

GEORGE.  (Bitterly)  "Let  him  dream  on" — that's 
what  I  mean. 

MARGUERITE.     (Innocently)     Let  who  dream  on? 

GEORGE.  Me,  I  suppose  you  meant.  Do  you  deny 
that  you  said  it? 

MARGUERITE.  No,  of  course  not.  That  would  be 
silly — one  might  say  anything  and  forget  it. 

GEORGE.  It  came  to  me  pretty  straight.  Some  one 
told  you  that  I  had  said  we  were  to  be  married  early 
in  the  fall.  And  your  comment  was,  "Let  him 
dream  on."  That's  a  nice  thing  to  hear. 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  I  don't  really  see  anything 
so  terrible  in  that,  George.  It  doesn't  mean  any 
thing — and  if  it  does  it  means  something  rather  nice. 
Most  people  would  be  glad  to  dream  on  after  they're 
married,  instead  of  waking  up. 

GEORGE.  You  didn't  say  anything  about  "after 
we  were  married." 


'A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY' 


See  page  42 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  41 

MARGUERITE.  Of  course  it  was  Clarence  Rivers 
told  you. 

GEORGE.  But  you  did  say  it.  And  now  the  ques 
tion  is — did  you  mean  it? 

MARGUERITE.  Not  if  you  don't  like  it,  George,  of 
course  not. 

GEORGE.  Do  you  take  the  slightest  interest  in  the 
house  ?  If  not  I'll  just  return  these  plans  to  Hoakum 
and  Birdsall.  (Goes  up.) 

MARGUERITE.  (Affecting  interest)  Oh,  have  you 
the  plans  with  you  ?  Well,  you  know  I  did  see  them 
once,  George. 

GEORGE.  (Gets  plans  from  console  table)  Only 
the  ground  floor. 

MARGUERITE.    Oh,  is  there  more  of  it? 

GEORGE.  Why,  of  course — did  you  think  I'd  build 
a  house  with  no  upstairs  to  it? 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  I  thought  the  upstairs  and 
everything  was  downstairs.  It  seemed  large  enough 
without  anything  more. 

GEORGE.  Well,  you  want  a  large  house,  don't  you  ? 
You've  got  to  have  servants  and  you've  got  to  have 
your  friends.  And  your  relatives  come  to  visit  you, 
don't  they  ?  I  know  mine  do. 

MARGUERITE.     Oh,  do  they? 

GEORGE.  (Who  has  opened  package  on  table  c.) 
Now  what  I  particularly  wanted  you  to  see  is  the 
arrangement  of  the  rooms  on  the  second  floor  south. 

(Enter  EDDIE  R.U.J 

EDDIE.     Hello,  George.     Glad  to  see  you. 

GEORGE.  Hello, — don't  touch  those  papers  there, 
Eddie,  or  you'll  get  me  all  mixed  up. 

EDDIE.  What  is  it?  Have  you  gone  into  the 
indigo  business? 

GEORGE.     It's  plans  for  the  house, 


42  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

EDDIE.     Oh,  I  see. 

GEORGE.  (To  MARGUERITE,  who  crosses  to  table) 
Here  is  your  room.  Now,  the  question  is,  whether 
you  would  rather  have  this  sleeping  porch  on  the 
other  side  of  the  dressing  room — then  you  have  to 
go  through  here  to  get  to  it. 

MARGUERITE.     Across  a  hall? 

GEORGE.    (Nervously)    Yes. 

MARGUERITE.    What's  this? 

GEORGE.    A  closet. 

MARGUERITE.    Oh,  then  I  can't  go  through  there. 

EDDIE.    Not  unless  you  bore. 

MARGUERITE.  Why  not  have  the  porch  here — 
just  outside  my  windows? 

GEORGE.  You  want  it  on  the  west  side  or  it  will 
be  hot. 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  well,  I  don't  know,  George. 
There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  place  to  have  it  where 
I  can  get  to  it. 

EDDIE.  Why  not  go  downstairs  and  enter  from 
outside  on  a  ladder? 

GEORGE.  You're  very  funny,  Eddie,  but  this  is 
an  important  matter.  If  you'd  put  your  mind  on  it, 
you  might  be  some  help. 

EDDIE.    My  what?    All  right,  I  will. 

MARGUERITE.  (Pointing  to  plan)  What's  all 
this? 

GEORGE.    That's  my  room. 

EDDIE.  (Looking)  I  suppose  your  porch  works 
all  right,  George? 

GEORGE.  Well,  yes,  because  my  rooms  face  north. 
They'll  be  very  cold  in  winter. 

EDDIE.    When  you're  not  there. 

MARGUERITE.    What's  this  ? 

GEORGE.    That's  the  nursery. 

MARGUERITE.  But  it's  so  huge,  George.  And 
look  at  the  stairs ! 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  43 

GEORGE.  Well,  you  have  to  have  stairs  to  get  to 
the  children,  don't  you? 

MARGUERITE.    But  such  quantities  of  them! 

EDDIE.  Maybe  you'll  have  quantities  of  children. 
And  you  have  to  have  stairs  to  get  away  from  them, 
too,  you  know. 

MARGUERITE.    But  stairs  are  dangerous,  George — 

GEORGE.  Don't  be  absurd — they'll  have  gates  at 
the  top. 

MARGUERITE.  But  children  open  those  gates, 
George.  I  know  I  did  and  I  fell  down.  Look — 
(Pointing  to  the  back  of  her  neck.)  I  have  the  scar 
yet. 

EDDIE.  Well,  why  not  have  Yale  locks  put  on  the 
gates  and  only  allow  keys  to  the  responsible  children. 

GEORGE.  Isn't  there  some  place  where  we  can  go 
and  be  quiet? 

MARGUERITE.  Yes — right  in  the  music-room. 
(They  start  off.) 

EDDIE.     Have  you  told  George? 

GEORGE.     Told  me  what? 

EDDIE.  Nothing — I  thought  maybe  Marguerite 
had  told  you. 

GEORGE.  Well — what  is  it?  Now  I  insist  on 
being  told. 

EDDIE.    Oh  well,  that's  up  to  Marguerite. 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  it  isn't.  If  you  want  to  tell, 
tell. 

^  EDDIE.  I  think  it's  a  good  thing  to  tell  George- 
it's  just  that  father's  in  some  sort  of  a  business 
crash. 

GEORGE.  (Shocked)  What!  Wilton  and  Bel- 
den? 

EDDIE.    I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  really 

GEORGE.  Why,  that  doesn't  seem  possible — I 
haven't  heard  a  rumor  of  it. 

MARGUERITE.    Neither  had  we. 


44  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

GEORGE.  (Suspiciously  to  MARGUERITE,)  That's 
the  reason  you're  home  to-night? 

MARGUERITE.    What  do  you  mean  ? 

GEORGE.  If  your  father's  in  trouble — you  natural 
ly — turn  to  me. 

MARGUERITE.     (Simply)     Yes. 

GEORGE.    (Gloomily)    Oh,  I  see.    This  is  terrible. 

READY  door-bell 

MARGUERITE.  (With  spirit)  You  weren't  mar 
rying  me  for  my  money,  were  you,  George? 

GEORGE.  No.  The  question  is — are  you  marry 
ing  me  for  mine  ? 

MARGUERITE.  (Hesitating)  Why,  George  Stru- 
thers— 

GEORGE.  Well,  upon  my  word  it  looks  like  it. 
My  God !  (With  real  feeling)  The  thing  I  always 
dreaded.  I  did  think  as  you  had  plenty  of  your  own 
I  was  safe. 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  you  don't  have  to  marry  me 
if  you  don't  want  to,  George. 

GEORGE.  I  do  want  to — but  the  question  is — Do 
you  love  me?  Look  at  me. 

EDDIE.  Don't  ask  her  to  look  at  you,  George, 
with  that  expression  on  your  face. 

DOOR-BELL. 

MARGUERITE.  I  haven't  the  least  idea,  George, 
whether  I  do  or  not. 

EDDIE.     Believe  me,   that's  saying  a  good   deal. 

(CONNORS  appears  at  L.  door.) 

CONNORS.    Miss  Partington  is  here. 

MARGUERITE.    It's  Julie (GEORGE  crosses  L.) 

EDDIE.    Oh,  Julie — show  her  in,  Connors. 

(Enter  JULIE.      She   greets   each  in   turn  as   they 
speak  to  her.) 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  45 

MARGUERITE.    Good  evening,  dear. 

JULIE.  You  forgot  that  I  was  coming  to  dinner, 
didn't  you  ? 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  were  you  ?  But  you're  late, 
dear,  we've  had  dinner. 

JULIE.  So  have  I.  Clarence  said  you'd  forgotten 
we  were  coming.  He  had  dinner  with  us. 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  was  he  coming  too?  Well, 
you  see  it's  been  such  an  awful  evening. 

GEORGE.    I'll  go  along,  I  guess — 

MARGUERITE.  (To  GEORGE;  We  can  go  into 
the  music  room  if  you  like. 

(GEORGE  gathers  up  plans  from  table  L.  and  starts 
with  MARGUERITE  toward  L.uJ 

JULIE.  What's  that,  George?  Are  you  writing  a 
story  ? 

GEORGE.  (At  table)  These  are  plans  for  a  house 
that  will  probably  never  be  built. 

JULIE.    Really?    Aren't  they  any  good? 

GEORGE.     Good  night. 

(Exit  GEORGE  and  MARGUERITE  L.U.     They  cross 
hall  and  enter  music  room  in  flat.) 

EDDIE.  You're  a  brick,  Julie.  Why  didn't  you 
say  you  were  coming? 

JULIE.  Well,  father  and  Uncle  Jerry  Partington 
were  right  near  the  telephone.  I  couldn't  say  any 
thing.  You  look  awfully  ill,  Eddie. 

EDDIE.     Yes — it's  this  worry  over  father. 

JULIE.     (Sitting  on  sofa)     Is  that  it? 

EDDIE.  Of  course.  I  should  think  a  man  would 
have  a  pretty  good  excuse  for  looking  seedy — with 
his  father  ruined. 

JULIE.    Yes — it  is  a  good  excuse. 


46  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

EDDIE.  I  thought  maybe  I'd  get  a  little  sympa 
thy— 

JULIE.     I'm  awfully   sorry   for  your   father — 

EDDIE.     Thanks. 

JULIE.  But  I  really  think,  Eddie,  that  if  it  makes 
yOU — pUn  up  and — and  go  to  work — it  will  be  a  good 
thing  for  you. 

EDDIE.  Well,  believe  me — (Sits  by  her) — if  I 
knew  what  to  do,  I'd  be  at  work  to-morrow  morn 
ing.  If  your  uncle  meant  what  you  said  he  said — 
I'll  be  in  his  office  at  nine  o'clock. 

JULIE.     Really,  Eddie? 

EDDIE.     You  bet.    What  was  it  he  said? 

JULIE.  Let  me  see.  Well — he  said  he  was  sorry 
to  have  me—  Well,  I  guess  I'd  better  not  tell  you, 

Eddie. 

READY  crash. 

EDDIE.     Go  ahead. 

JULIE.  He  said  it  was  a  pity  I  had  picked  out 
such  a  lightweight — I  think  that  was  the  word. 

(GEORGE  and  MARGUERITE  come  out  of  music  room 
and  exit  L.J 

EDDIE.     Might  be  worse. 

JULIE.  And  then  he  said,  then  he  said — he'd  just 
teke  to  have  you  in  his  office  for  a  week— but  that 
was  a  good  deal  for  uncle  to  say. 

EDDIE.  Yes— it  depends  a  little  on  what  he  meant. 
But  still— 

JULIE.  Oh,  well — Uncle  Jerry  really  means  what 
he  says,  I  think.  I'd  go  and  see  him,  Eddie. 

EDDIE.  If  I  do—  (Crash,  A  door  slams  off 
stage.  EDDIE  and  JULIE  rise.  Enter  MARGUERITE.,) 
What  was  that,  an  explosion? 

MARGUERITE.  No— George  going  out.  Our  en 
gagement  is  broken — how's  yours? 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY          47 

JULIE.  I'm  not  going  to  be  engaged  to  anybody 
this  spring.  I've  been  reading  a  book  that  says 
people  are  really  more  emotional  in  the  spring,  and 
when  I  look  back  I've  always  been  engaged  in  the 
spring— so  I'm  going  to  wait  this  year  till  the  fall, 
anyway. 

EDDIE.  Fine—I'll  call  about  the  first  of  Novem 
ber — arrive  with  the  first  frost. 

JULIE.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  came  for.  Clarence 
wants  us  all  to  go  and  see  some  rhythmic  dancing— 
Madame  Demidorf— she  is  perfectly  wonderful,  and 
it  does  something  to  your  soul,  Clarence  says. 

EDDIE.    How  does  he  know? 

MARGUERITE.  We  couldn't  go  anywhere  to-night, 
Julie — we  couldn't  leave  father. 

JULIE.     Oh — couldn't  you? 

(Enter  CLARENCE  L.u.J 

CLARENCE.  My  dear  children,  I  want  you  to  come 
and  see  the  most  remarkable  creature— Andrea 
Polski  Demidorf— she's  a  Russian,  very  high  class 
— related  to  a  samovar  or  something^ 

EDDIE.     I  am  sick  of  Russian  dancing. 

CLARENCE.  Of  course,  but  this  is  different  from 
anything  you  have  ever  seen.  You  don't  know  it, 
but  dancing  affects  your  soul. 

EDDIE.  It  depends  on  who  you  are  dancing 
with,  I  should  think. 

CLARENCE.  Well,  here's  the  vital  part  of  her 
theory.  You  know  you  have  an  aura. 

EDDIE.     Where  ? 

CLARENCE.  If  you're  capable  of  any  spiritual 
radiations  you  have  an  aura  round  your  head. 

EDDIE.  I'd  rather  have  a  wet  towel  around  mine 
to-night. 

CLARENCE.    Her  dancing  will  give  you  one  if  you 


48  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

haven't  got  one.     Well,  how  about  it — will  you  go? 

MARGUERITE.  We  can't,  Clarence.  We're  in  great 
trouble. 

CLARENCE.  Oh,  yes — I  know — I  didn't  want  to 
speak  of  it  unless  you  did — I'm  awfully  sorry  about 
your  father,  old  chap.  (Goes  to  EDDIE J 

EDDIE.     (To  JULIE)     Oh — did  you  tell  him? 

JULIE.  Yes — I  didn't  think  it  would  matter  just 
telling  Clarence. 

CLARENCE.  It  doesn't  matter,  of  course — but  if 
there's  anything  I  can  do — probably  there  isn't — 
maybe  I'd  better  ask  him.  What  do  you  think? 
Where  is  he? 

EDDIE.  He's  playing  cribbage,  I  think,  with  Mrs. 
Wilton. 

CLARENCE.  Oh — that's  fine,  isn't  it?  I  say — what 
a  man  he  is.  I  won't  disturb  them — maybe  to-mor 
row  in  his  office.  Ruined.  Cribbage.  I  must  re 
member  that. 

JULIE.  (Crossing  to  R.)  How  does  your  father 
look,  Eddie? 

EDDIE.    He  looks  just  the  same. 

JULIE.  Couldn't  I  just  take  a  peek  at  him  through 
the  door? 

EDDIE.  Well,  he  is  not  on  exhibition,  you  know — 
Still,  come  along. 

(Exit  JULIE  and  EDDIE  R.uJ 

MARGUERITE.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  some 
thing,  Clarence. 

CLARENCE.  May  I  sit  down?  It  doesn't  take  me 
long  to  get  up. 

MARGUERITE.    I'm  not  joking  now,  Clarence. 

CLARENCE.  (Who  has  been  about  to  sit  doivn  on 
sofa)  Oh — you'd  rather  I  wouldn't? 

MARGUERITE.     Sit  down,  of  course —     (He  sits.) 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  49 

Having  made  me  a  lot  of  trouble,  Clarence,  I  think 
you  ought  to  do  something  about  it. 

CLARENCE.  Why,  certainly.  What  do  you  want 
me  to  do  ? 

MARGUERITE.  George  came  to-night —  Of  course 
I've  always  felt  that  I  could  say  anything  I  like  to 
you,  Clarence. 

CLARENCE.     I've  noticed  that. 

MARGUERITE.  You  repeated  a  silly  speech  I  made 
to  you,  and  George  has  been  here  and  made  an  awful 
scene  about  it. 

CLARENCE.     Has  he  really? 

MARGUERITE.  Yes — you  say  things,  Clarence,  but 
you  never  think  of  the  consequences. 

CLARENCE.  Of  course  I  do — I'm  always  thinking 
of  them. 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  Clarence  Rivers!  You  in 
tended  to  have  George  break  off  our  engagement  ? 

CLARENCE.  I  hoped  he  would,  of  course — but  I 
hardly  thought  there  was  much  chance,  unless  I 
could  follow  it  up  in  some  way.  Has  he  really  done 
that  ? — Isn't  that  splendid  ? 

MARGUERITE.  George  thinks  now  that  on  account 
of  father,  I  want  to  marry  him  for  his  money — and 
perhaps  I  do. 

CLARENCE.  Good  Lord!  If  you're  going  to  do 
that,  why  not  marry  me?  I've  got  more  than  he 
has.  Think  it  over. 

MARGUERITE.  Clarence — how  can  you.  Would  you 
be  willing  to  marry  anyone  who  married  you  for 
your  money? 

CLARENCE.  Not  anyone.  But  you,  yes — for  any 
reason  whatever.  Of  course  I  wouldn't  want  you  to 
start  divorce  proceedings  at  once — I'd  like  to  have 
a  year  or  two  out  of  it.  Think  it  over.  I'll  phone 
in  the  morning.  ...  I  think  it's  a  splendid  idea — 
I've  thought  so  for  some  time. 


50  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

(Enter  JULIE  R.u.J 

JULIE.  Come,  Clarence.  (CLARENCE  up  L.J 
Good-bye,  dear.  (Up  to  door.)  I'm  sure  every 
thing  will  be  all  right.  Aren't  you,  Clarence? 

CLARENCE.     I'm  not  sure — but  I  have  hopes. 

(Exit  JULIE  and  CLARENCE   L.U.     Enter  WILTON 
R.u.J 

MARGUERITE.  (Crossing  c.)  Father,  what  do  you 
think  of  Clarence  Rivers? 

WILTON.  Why,  I  don't  think  of  him.  Is  it 
necessary  to  incorporate  him  in  my  reflections? 

MARGUERITE.     I  wish  you  would. 

WILTON.  Well,  that's  reason  enough.  But  put  it 
off  until  to-morrow,  will  you?  I'd  like  to  just  think 
of  my  family  to-night. 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  of  course,  dear,  and  we  want 
to  just  think  of  you;  but  people  keep  coming  in. 

WILTON.  Yes,  people  keep  coming  in.  I've  no 
ticed  that— but  they're  beginning  to  go  out  too.  I 
think  the  tide  has  turned. 

(Exit  MARGUERITE  R.U.     Enter  CONNORS  L.uJ 

CONNORS.     Mr.  Wilton,  excuse  me,  sir — 

WILTON,     (c.)    Oh,  Connors,  is  that  you? 

CONNORS.  (L.C.)  Yes,  sir.  I  couldn't  help  over 
hearing  what  Albertine  said  to  Lizzie.  You  know 
Albertine  is  a  great  one  to  listen. 

WILTON.     Yes,  is  she? 

CONNORS.  I  was  afraid  something  had  happened, 
sir,  when  the  family  all  stayed  home  for  dinner. 

WILTON.    Yes,  that  did  look  pretty  bad,  didn't  it? 

CONNORS.  If  you'll  pardon  me  for  saying  so,  sir 
— I  know  all. 

WILTON.    Oh — you  know  all,  do  you,  Connors? 

CONNORS.    Yes,  sir.    And  I  want  to  say,  sir,  that 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  51 

if  I  can  help  in  any  way— besides  staying  with  you, 
sir— of  course  I  shall  do  that— and  I  can  valet  you, 
sir — your  clothes  will  be  kept  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

WILTON.  That's  very  nice  of  you,  Connors,  and 
be  sure  to  see  that  my  old  brown  smoking  jacket  is 
kept. 

CONNORS.  Yes,  sir — yes,  indeed.  But — er — I 
have  a  little  money  in  the  bank,  sir — (Taking  out 
bank-book.)  Here  it  is.  It  might  not  be  any  use 
to  you  at  all,  sir,  but  I  would  be  so  glad  if  it 
would.  .  .  . 

WILTON.  Why,  Connors — I  always  knew  what  a 
dear,  faithful  fellow  you  were — but  really,  this  is 
too  much.  (He  takes  the  bank-book.) 

CONNORS.  I'm  afraid  it's  too  little,  sir.  I  wish 
it  was  more. 

WILTON.  (Opening  bank-book)  Three  thousand 
dollars — why,  that's  very  good,  Connors.  You  must 
have  been  very  careful  to  have  saved  so  much. 

CONNORS.  (Pleased)  Well,  you  see,  sir — I've  no 
one  really  dependent  on  me  now,  sir.  My  sister's 
husband  has  died  and  she  doesn't  need  any  more 
help.  And  my  father  and  mother  are  gone,  sir,  so 
I've  really  no  one  to  look  out  for. 

WILTON.     No  one  but  me. 

READY  door-bell. 

CONNORS.    That's  right,  sir.     I've  no  one  but  you. 

WILTON.  Well,  Connors — I  really  don't  know 
what  to  say  to  you — but  I  wouldn't  have  missed  this 
for  anything. 

CONNORS.  The  check  is  inside.  I  just  made  it 
out  to  you,  sir — so  there'd  be  no  trouble. 

WILTON.  Well,  Connors — I'll  just  put  this  in  my 
pocket — and  then  we'll  see  how  things  are.  (Pitts 
bank-book  in  his  pocket,  looking  at  CONNORS.) 

CONNORS.     That's  what  I  hoped,  sir. 


52  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

WILTON.  Perhaps  you'd  better  go  .now.  I'm 
really  afraid  you'll  make  me  cry  if  you  go  on  like 
this. 

CONNORS.  That  mightn't  be  a  bad  idea,  sir,  let 
yourself  down  a  bit,  sir — if  you  can.  I'm  sure  we'll 
weather  this  storm,  Mr.  Wilton — and  many  others 
like  it. 

DOOR-BELL. 

WILTON.     Yes — yes.    Thank  you,  Connors. 

(CONNORS  exits  L.U.  and  returns  with  a  box.) 

CONNORS,  (c.)  A  box  addressed  to  you,  sir,  from 
Vantines. 

WILTON.  (Crossing  to  CONNORS  c.)  I  haven't 
ordered  anything.  Let's  see  what  it  is.  (They  open 
the  box,  disclosing  a  handsome  long  dressing  gown.) 
Isn't  that  a  beauty,  Connors  ?  It  must  be  for  me — 
don't  you  think  so? 

CONNORS.  Why,  yes,  sir.  It  can't  be  for  any  one 
else. 

WILTON.  No,  not  as  long  as  this.  I  think  I'll  put 
it  on — I  can  take  it  off  again,  you  know,  if  we  de 
cide  that — it  isn't  for  me. 

CONNORS.  Yes,  sir.  (Helping  WILTON  on  with 
dressing-gown.)  But  after  all,  one  must  keep  up 
appearances,  sir,  mustn't  they? 

WILTON.     Yes,  indeed. 

CONNORS.  And  when  the  shoe  pinches,  one  must 
step  out  braver  than  ever.  Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  sir,  it's 
very  becoming. 

WILTON.     Is  it  really? 

CONNORS.  Oh,  yes,  sir—it  brings  you  out,  Mr. 
Wilton. 

WILTON.  Does  it — where  does  it  bring  me  out, 
Connors  ? 

CONNORS.  Your  face,  sir.  The  lines  are  very 
good. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  53 

WILTON.     The  lines  of  my  face? 

CONNORS.     No — the  lines  of  the  garment,  sir. 

WILTON.    Oh. 

(Exit  CONNORS  with  box  L.U.     Enter  EMMIE  in  a 
simple  evening  gown  R.u.J 

EMMIE.  (Delighted)  Harry — it  came  and  you've 
got  it  on. 

WILTON.    Why,  yes — how  nice  it  is,  too. 

EMMIE.     It  was  going  to  be  a  present  from  me. 

WILTON.     Oh !     From  you  ? 

EMMIE.  Yes,  but  I  don't  suppose  you  can  afford 
it  now. 

WILTON.  Well — I  can  wear  it  this  evening,  any 
way,  can't  I? 

EMMIE.  Keep  it,  Harry — what  difference  does  it 
make — it's  charged  and  we  can't  pay  the  bill  anyway. 
Let's  sit  down,  Harry.  (They  go  to  fireplace  and 
WILTON  sits  in  chair,  EMMIE  near  him.)  It's  nice 
to  be  here.  I  do  get  tired  sometimes,  Harry. 

WILTON.    I  should  think  you  would  get  tired. 

EMMIE.  But  I  know  that  I  ought  to  go  about,  for 
your  sake. 

WILTON.    Really.    How  do  you  mean,  dear? 

EMMIE.  Why,  a  man  of  your  wealth  and  position, 
Harry.  Of  course  I  knew  when  I  married  you  how 
it  would  be.  I  can't  entertain  like  Katherine  Long- 
ley — or  Mrs.  Beverly  Weems — because  I  haven't  it 
in  me. 

WILTON.    Haven't  what  in  you? 

EMMIE.  Well — it's  really  a  gift,  you  know.  Their 
houses  are  more  like  salons. 

WILTON.     Is  that  what's  the  matter  with  them? 

EMMIE.  All  /  can  do  is  to  dress  smartly  and  be 
seen  everywhere. 

WILTON.  Everywhere?  No  wonder  we're  ex 
hausted. 


54  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

EMMIE.  Of  course  everyone  comes  to  our  house, 
Harry.  But  that's  on  your  account 

WILTON.     Does  Rafaelo  come  on  my  account? 

EMMIE.  No,  not  Rafaelo,  but  everyone  else. 
Katherine  Longley  says  I'm  not  the  sort  of  woman 
to  get  people  together.  Of  course  she's  wonderful 
about  that. 

WILTON.  Wonderful  about  getting  them  apart, 
too,  perhaps. 

EMMIE.  She  says  I  never  will  be  either,  that  I 
cannot  make  myself  into  anything  different  from 
what  I  am. 

WILTON.  Good!  I'm  glad  to  hear  that.  But  to 
what  do  we  owe  all  this  singular  interest  on  Kath 
erine  Longley's  part? 

EMMIE.  Well,  your  friends,  you  know,  always 
tell  you  things. 

WILTON.  Well,  but  I  didn't  realize  that  she  was 
as  friendly  as  all  that. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  yes.  We  saw  so  much  of  each  other 
at  Palm  Beach.  She  used  my  balcony,  you  see,  be 
cause  her  rooms  hadn't  any — it  was  an  awful  nui 
sance,  but  we  got  very  well  acquainted.  She  en 
tertained  her  friends  there  and  they  were  very  clever 
and  talked  so  loud  that  sometimes  we  were  really 
driven  out  and  would  go  and  sit  somewhere  else. 

WILTON.     We  ? 

EMMIE.  Yes,  Rafaelo  and  I.  We  spent  nearly 
all  our  evenings  together. 

WILTON.    I  didn't  know  he  was  down  there. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  yes — he  went  down  because  he 
wanted  to  paint  Katherine's  picture.  That's  the  way 
artists  get  orders,  you  know,  Harry.  They  hang 
around  people  until  some  one  asks  them  to  paint 
their  wife  or  dog  or  something.  It's  pathetic,  isn't  it  ? 

WILTON.    And  did  he  paint  Katherine's  picture? 

EMMIE.    No — he  painted  mine  as  it  turned  out. 


A   SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  55 

WILTON.    Oh — I  see. 

EMMIE.  Katherine  was  terribly  obstinate  about 
it — and  it  was  so  expensive  for  poor  Rafaelo  that 
I  said,  don't  bother  her  any  more — paint  me. 

WILTON.    You  didn't  mind  being  bothered. 

EMMIE.  No — you  see,  Rafaelo  and  I  are  very 
much  alike,  Harry.  He  isn't  deep,  you  know,  and 
he  likes  to  look  at  things — I  mean  the  stars  and  the 
sea  and  simple  things  like  that,  without  saying  any 
thing,  just  as  I  do.  He's  not  very  clever.  Of 
course  ^Catherine's  friends  are — and  we  were  awfully 
lonely  together  when  we  were  with  them — so  we 
would  go  off  by  ourselves. 

WILTON.  He's  a  nice  fellow,  isn't  he?  I  mean 
respectful  and  all  that. 

EMMIE.  Well,  no,  Harry.  You  can't  expect  that 
of  the  Latin  races,  you  know.  In  a  way  he  is — but 
not  as  you  would  be.  But  they  have  more  feeling 
than  we  have,  you  know — so  they  would  have  to 
have  lots  more  self-control  than  we  do,  to  act  like  us. 

WILTON.  But  he  never  did  anything  that  you 
objected  to? 

EMMIE.  He  would  always  stop  when  I  told  him 
that  I  didn't  like  it. 

WILTON.    Well — I  had  no  idea  of  all  this,  really. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  Harry — if  only  when  we  could,  you 
had  gone  down  there  with  me. 

WILTON.    Really,  would  you  have  liked  that? 

READY  door-bell. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  yes — I'd  have  been  so  flattered  that 
you'd  take  time  away  from  business  and  important 
things — to  go  and  just  be  with  me. 

WILTON.    Good  heavens,  why  didn't  you  say  so? 

EMMIE.  Though  you  think  I  don't,  Harry,  I  do 
notice  things.  I  know  that  if  I  were  more  intelli 
gent  you  would  like  to  talk  to  me  better — and  I 
don't  blame  you.  I'm  just  nothing  at  all  compared 


56  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

with  you — I  did  try  to  be  different,  but  I  don't  think 
you  noticed  it. 

WILTON.    Did  you? 

EMMIE.  I  read  about  things  I  thought  you  would 
be  interested  in  and  told  you  about  them — but  you 
only  went  to  sleep.  There  was  one  thing  I  remem 
ber,  about  why  car  wheels  squeak  going  around 
curves — I  thought  you  being  a  railroad  man  would 
like  to  hear  it — but  you  went  to  sleep. 

WILTON.     Why,  you  dear  child ! 

EMMIE.    I  knew  you  were  disappointed  in  me. 

WILTON.     Disappointed  in  you? 

DOOR-BELL  rings. 

EMMIE.  Katherine  Longley  told  me  how  it  would 
be,  but  she  was  wrong  about  one  thing,  Harry.  She 
said  I  could  never  hold  you  for  a  year,  and  we've 
been  married  two. 

WILTON.  Hold  me?  Why,  my  dear,  don't  you 
know  the  question  is — can  I  hold  you? 

(Enter  CONNORS  L.u.J 

CONNORS.    Mr.  Rafaelo  is  calling. 

EMMIE.  (Rising  and  crossing  c.)  Shall  we  let 
him  come  in  just  for  a  minute? 

WILTON.     (Rising)     Certainly,  if  you  like. 

EMMIE.  I  won't  if  you  mind,  Harry,  but  I 
thought 

WILTON.  Mind  ?  Why  should  I  mind  ?  Do  you 
want  me  to  go  out? 

EMMIE.  Why,  no — I  can  have  him  in  the  music 
room.  No.  .  .  .  (Starts  up.)  No.  I  won't  see 
him  at  all,  Conners.  (Exit  CONNORS  L.U.  EMMIE 
comes  back,  sits  on  arm  of  WILTON'S  chair.)  Harry 
— you  know  I'm  never  sleepy — but  to-night  some 
how  or  other  I — I — am — I  think  perhaps  it's  being 
with  you.  I  mean,  we're  so  sort  of  comfortable  and 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  57 

quiet  here  alone  together  ...  do  you  think  it  would 
be  all  right  for  me  to  go  to  bed? 

WILTON.  I  should  think  it  would  be  the  very 
thing — and  I'll  tell  you — no,  I  guess  you  wouldn't 
like  that 

EMMIE.  Harry — were  you  going  to  say  you'd 
come  and  read  to  me? 

WILTON.    But  you  wouldn't  like  that,  would  you  ? 

EMMIE.     It  would  be  perfect,  Harry. 

WILTON.  No,  we'd  better  put  it  off  till  some  other 
time.  You  know  I'm  going  to  be  ruined  for  several 
evenings. 

EMMIE.  Oh,  it's  been  such  a  wonderful  evening. 
You  know  I  think  being  ruined  is  almost  like  being 
drugged — everything  seems  like  a  dream. 

WILTON.  What  do  you  know  about  being 
drugged  ? 

EMMIE.  Nothing,  of  course,  but  what  I've  heard. 
(Goes  Rj 

MARGUERITE.  (Entering)  I  came  to  say  good 
night,  Father. 

EDDIE.  (Entering  in  dressing  gown)  I  came  to 
say  good-night,  Dad. 

WILTON.  Why,  how  very  nice.  Just  the  way 
you  used  to  when  you  were  kids. 

MARGUERITE.    Before  you  were  so  busy 

WILTON.     And  before  you  were  so  busy. 

EDDIE.  It's  a  good  thing  to  cut  out  being  busy 
once  in  a  while. 

WILTON.    I  think  so  too. 

EDDIE.     I've  done  some  thinking  to-night,  Dad. 

WILTON.    Have  you  really? 

EDDIE.    You  bet  I  have — and  I'm  not  through  yet. 

WILTON.  Do  you  think  it's  a  good  thing  to  start 
in  all  at  once  like  that  ? 

EDDIE.    You  bet  it's  a  good  thing. 


58          A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

WILTON.  Well,  all  right — then  I  won't  say  any 
thing  to  stop  you. 

MARGUERITE.  I've  been  thinking,  too.  But  I  sup 
pose  I  won't  have  to  if  I  marry  Clarence. 

WILTON.     Clarence? 

MARGUERITE.  Could  you  love  any  one  who  mar 
ried  you  for  your  money,  Father? 

WILTON.  Why,  of  course.  You  can't  help  lov 
ing  some  people  no  matter  what  they  do. 

MARGUERITE.  Clarence  doesn't  mind.  It's  really 
nice  of  him.  When  you  think  of  the  fuss  some 
people  make  about  it. 

WILTON.  It's  not  a  good  idea  to  marry  just  for 
that — you'll  have  time  to  think  it  over,  won't  you  ? 

MARGUERITE.     Oh,  yes 

WILTON.    You're  very  young,  you  know. 

MARGUERITE.  That's  it,  dear — I'd  like  to  marry 
while  I'm  young — so  that  if  it's  a  mistake  I  can  do 
something  about  it  and  still  have  my  life  before  me. 

EDDIE.     To  make  some  more 

MARGUERITE.  Clarence  says  if  he  has  two  years 
he'll  be  satisfied.  Well,  not  exactly  satisfied,  but 
thankful. 

EDDIE.  Oh,  that's  ridiculous.  Julie  and  I  are  go 
ing  to  be  married  for  life.  Even  if  we  are  miser 
able.  It's  more  dignified,  I  think.  Don't  you, 
Father? 

WILTON.    Well,  perhaps  it  is  if  you  can  stand  it. 

EDDIE.  What's  the  use  just  going  on  marrying 
one  person  after  another?  If  Julie  isn't  the  right 
one,  it's  a  cinch  the  next  will  be  a  flivver. 

WILTON.  She  seems  to  be  a  very  nice  girl — and 
she  has  money,  of  course? 

EDDIE.  I  wouldn't  touch  it.  Besides,  I  don  t 
think  she  has  very  much.  Old  Uncle  Jerry  pays 
the  bills,  I  guess ;  and  he's  pretty  close. 

WILTON.    Maybe  you  can  get  him  over  that. 


A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY  59 

EDDIE.  If  I  go  in  with'  him,  you  mean.  Well, 
I've  got  a  few  ideas — believe  me. 

MARGUERITE.    I'm  sleepy,  dear. 

EDDIE.     So  am  I. 

WILTON.  What  do  you  say  if  we  all  have  break 
fast  together  and  talk  things  over? 

EDDIE.  All  right,  that'll  be  fine.  Good-night, 
Dad. 

MARGUERITE.    Good-night,  Dad. 

(Exit  MARGUERITE,  EDDIE  and  EMMIE  R.U.  WAL 
TON  goes  up  to  door  with  them;  kisses  EMMIE. 
He  comes  back  to  fireplace.) 

ALBERTINE.  (Entering  L.u.j  Excuse  me,  Mr. 
Wilton.  Can  I  speak  to  you  for  one  minute? 

WILTON.    You  evidently  can,  Albertine. 

ALBERTINE.  Mr.  Wilton — I — er — I  think  I  can't 
stay — I  mean  I  mus'  go.  I  think. 

WILTON.  (R.  Lighting  cigar  from  taboret)  Oh, 
really  ?  Have  you  told  Mrs.  Wilton  ? 

READY  door-bell. 

ALBERTINE.    No — not  yet — I 

WILTON.  Well,  perhaps  it's  just  as  well  for  you 
to  go,  Albertine.  Your  habit  of  listening  at  doors 
is  not  a  desirable  one.  I  knew  a  man  who  tripped 
over  a  girl  listening  at  a  door  once  and  hurt  himself 
quite  badly. 

ALBERTINE.  I  don'  do  eet.  AnJ  if  you  think  I 
make  you  trouble  you  are  veeree  wrong.  I  could 
make  so  much  trouble,  but  always  I  say  "no,  I  weel 
not  do  eet." 

WILTON.  Oh,  you  could  make  a  lot  of  trouble 
if  you  wanted  to,  could  you? 

ALBERTINE.  I  could — for  all  the  time  M'sieu 
Rafaelo  is  painting  Mrs.  Wilton's  picture  in  his 
studio,  I  am  there  and  I  see — eet  ees  so  plain — but  I 


6o  A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY 

say  nossing — I  do  not  want  to  make  trouble — I  like 
Mrs.  Wilton — I  like  her  verree,  verree  much.  I 
will  tell  you  something — 

WILTON.  That's  where  you  make  a  mistake  right 
at  the  start.  You  won't  tell  me  anything. 

ALBERTINE.    There  is  one  thing  Monsieur  should 

knOW~  DOOR-BELL. 

WILTON.  There's  one  thing  I  do  know  and  that 
is  you're  going,  and  as  long  as  you  are  going,  I  think 
I  might  as  well  pay  you. 

ALBERTINE.  Pay  me?  Oh,  no,  please.  If  you 
can  pay  me,  I  don't  want  to  go*. 

WILTON.  But  we  can't  consult  you  in  the  matter. 
We'll  let  Mrs.  Wilton  decide,  and  meantime  try  to 
find  some  interest  in  life  besides  listening  at  key 
holes. 

ALBERTINE.      (Meekly)     Very    well,    Monsieur. 

(Exits  R.uJ 

CONNORS.  (Entering)  It's  the  man  with  the 
tickets  for  the  prize  fight,  Mr.  Wilton— I  took  the 
liberty  of  telling  him  that  Mr.  Eddie  has  changed 
his  mind  about  going,  sir,  but  he  don't  seem  inclined 
to  leave. 

WILTON.  I  guess  the  best  way  to  get  rid  of  him 
is  to  give  him  the  money  for  them. 

CONNORS.     (Doubtfully)     Fifty  dollars,  sir? 

READY  voice. 

WILTON.  (Giving  him  the  money)  We  can't  let 
him  lose  it,  Connors— so  you  might  as  well  take  the 
tickets. 

CONNORS.    Mr.  Eddie  has  gone  to  bed,  sir 

WILTON.  I  know  it— every  one  has  gone  to  bed 
except  you  and  me,  Connors.  And  I  feel  wide 
awake  and  strangely  exhilarated. 

CONNORS.  (Admiringly)  Do  you,  sir?  Well, 
now,  that's  good. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY          61 

WILTON.  What  would  you  think,  Connors,  of  our 
going  to  the  prize  fight? 

CONNORS.    Why,  Mr.  Wilton,  sir 

WILTON.     Do  you  like  to  see  a  fight,  Connors? 

READY  curtain. 

CONNORS.  Well,  sir,  I  confess  that  I  did,  sir,  but 
it's  been  so  long  since  I've  seen  one.  I  used  to  get 
to  go  in  England  once  in  a  while  to  a  really  fine 
bout.  I  saw  The  Sparrow  when  he  knocked  out 
Hurricane  Harry  Wells,  sir — perhaps  you  remember 
reading  of  it.  Hurricane  Harry  was  by  rights  a 
heavyweight,  sir 

WILTON.  The  Sparrow  was  a  featherweight,  I 
take  it? 

VOICE.  (In  hall)  Well,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it? 

CONNORS.  And  when  the  Hurricane  weighed  in, 
sir 

WILTON.  You'd  better  pay  that  man  and  get  the 
tickets. 

CONNORS.     Very  well,  sir. 

WILTON.    Get  your  coat,  Connors,  and  mine 

(CONNORS  exits,  re-entering  with  coats  and  tickets.) 
What  did  the  man  say? 

CONNORS.    He  seemed  much  relieved,  sir. 

WILTON.    So  was  I — of  fifty  dollars. 

(CONNORS  helps  WILTON  on  with  coat  and  hands 
him  the  tickets.) 

WILTON.  (Looking  at  tickets)  Having  spent  a 
quiet  evening  at  home,  we  will  now  see  Frederick 
Ebbets,  the  Sierra  Cyclone,  and  Billy  Huffhauser, 
the  Sledge  Hammer  of  Seattle,  fight  it  out  at  the 
Garden. 

(Exit  WILTON  and  CONNORS  L.U.,  arm  in  arm.) 
CURTAIN 


ACT    II 

SCENE  I :    The  same. 

AT  RISE:  PIETRO  discovered  sitting  in  front  of  the 
fireplace  R.  Enter  EMMIE  R.U.  carrying  jewel 
case. 

PIETRO.     (Rising)    Ah — good  morning,  fair  lady. 

EMMIE.  Pietro — did  you  think  it  perfectly  dread 
ful  of  me? 

PIETRO.     Dreadful  of  you? 

EMMIE.    To  call  you  up  at  such  an  hour  last  night. 

PIETRO.  I  was  up — you  did  not  wake  me — and  if 
you  had— to  think  that  at  last  you  need  me— it  is 
splendeed ! 

EMMIE.  (Indicating  jewel  case)  I  ve  all  my 
jewels  in  here,  Pietro.  It  seems  such  a  dreadful 
thing  to  do — when  he  gave  them  to  me. 

PIETRO.  Dreadful— no,  it  is  life.  Let  us  go- 
courage  !  I  have  a  taxi  waiting. 

EMMIE.     It  seems  queer  to  go  in  a  taxi — 

READY  door-bell. 

PIETRO.    Yes— but  you  will  get  used  to  eet— 

MARGUERITE.  (Entering  R.uJ  Oh— good  morn 
ing,  Mr.  Rafaelo. 

PIETRO.    Ah  buon  giorno,  Signorina. 

MARGUERITE.    You  going  out,  Sweetie? 

EMMIE.  Yes,  it's  such  a  heavenly  morning,  1  m 
going  for  a  little  walk  in  the  Park  with  Pietro. 

62 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  63 

MARGUERITE.  Oh.  .  .  .  Father's  asleep,  Sweetie. 
Don't  you  think  Connors  should  wake  him  ? 

EMMIE.     No,  I  don't.     Let  him  sleep. 

DOOR-BELL. 

MARGUERITE.  But  maybe  there's  something  he 
ought  to  attend  to  o'own  town. 

EMMIE.  Why,  there  isn't  anything  to  attend  to. 
No,  dear,  at  least  now  that  he's  ruined  he  can  sleep. 

(Enter  CONNORS  L.U.J 

CONNORS.  Mr.  Struthers  and  Mr.  Rivers  call 
ing.  (Remains  R.  of  L.u.J 

EMMIE.  (Going  up  to  L.uJ  Come,  Pietro.  Bye- 
bye,  dear. 

MARGUERITE.  What  shall  I  say  to  father,  Sweetie, 
if  he  asks  for  you? 

EMMIE.  I  don't  think  he  will — not  if  you  let  him 
sleep. 

PIETRO.    Addio,  Signorina. 

(EMMIE  and  PIETRO  exit  L.U.     CONNORS  crosses  and 
stands  L.U.E.J 

CONNORS.    (AtL.u.E.)    Which  will  you  see,  Miss  ? 
MARGUERITE.     I  suppose  I  may  as  well  see  them 
both,  Connors,  and  get  it  over  with. 

(CONNORS  exits.    Enter  GEORGE  L.U.) 

GEORGE.  What's  Rivers  doing  here  so  early  in 
the  morning? 

MARGUERITE.  Perhaps  he  came  to  ask  if  there 
was  anything  he  could  do  for  father. 

GEORGE.  I'd  like  to  speak  to  you,  Marguerite,  for 
a  few  minutes  if  you. don't  mind. 

MARGUERITE.     Why  should  I?     I've  nothing  to 


64  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

fear  from  you  now — you've  refused  to  marry  me. 

GEORGE.  How  can  you  say  such  terrible  things? 
I  suppose  you'd  go  right  on  saying  them  after  we 
were  married,  too. 

MARGUERITE.  Well,  you  don't  have  to  worry 
about  that,  do  you? 

GEORGE.  I  don't  know  whether  I  do  or  not.  Per 
haps  I  was  a  little  hasty  last  night.  I  got  to  think 
ing  after  I  left  you. 

MARGUERITE.  You  should  have  begun  a  little 
earlier  in  the  evening,  George. 

GEORGE.  But  you'll  admit  it  did  look  suspicious. 
Still,  if  you  say  that  your  father's  trouble  had  noth- 
ing  to  do  with  your  seeing  me,  and  taking  an  in 
terest  in  the  plans,  I'll  believe  you. 

MARGUERITE.  But  how  do  I  know,  George  ?  Now 
that  you've  put  the  idea  in  my  mind  I  think  you 
may  be  right.  I  certainly  want  to  help  father. 

GEORGE.  Do  you  care  more  for  your  father  than 
you  do  for  me? 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  George  Struthers,  don't  be 
ridiculous !  Of  course  I  do !  No  man  in  the  world 
could  be  to  me  what  father  is. 

CLARENCE.  (Entering)  Does  George  want  to  be 
a  father  to  you? 

GEORGE.    Now  for  some  real  wit ! 

MARGUERITE.  (Crossing  to  CLARENCE,  speaking 
softly)  Terrible  things  have  happened  this  morn 
ing.  I  wish  George  would  go. 

CLARENCE.  She  wishes  you'd  go,  George.  Ter 
rible  things  have  happened  this  morning.  Maybe 
you're  one  of  'em.  I  don't  know.  Call  around 
next  week  when  we're  more  settled,  there's  a  dear 
old  thing! 

GEORGE.  I  don't  appreciate  your  comedy  this 
morning,  Clarence. 

CLARENCE.    You  never  do. 


A   SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  65 

GEORGE.  We  were  having  a  little  private  conver 
sation,  which  if  you  don't  mind  we  will  continue. 

CLARENCE.     Go  ahead — I'd  like  to  hear  it. 

MARGUERITE.  George  was  trying  to  find  out  if 
my  motives  in  marrying  had  become  mercenary. 

CLARENCE.  Of  course  they  have.  Why,  she's 
even  thinking  of  marrying  me. 

GEORGE.     What ! 

CLARENCE.  When  it  comes  to  helping  a  ruined 
father,  I  guess  I'm  some  suitor,  too. 

GEORGE.     I  demand  an  explanation. 

CLARENCE.     What  kind  would  you  like? 

GEORGE.  I  want  to  understand  this  thing  thor 
oughly. 

CLARENCE.  Well,  I  can  explain,  but  that  you'll 
understand  I  can't  promise,  naturally. 

GEORGE.  Marguerite,  I  want  to  know  if  there  is 
anything  between  you  and  this  man.  (Crossing  to 
her.) 

MARGUERITE.  I  don't  know,  George.  I  almost 
begin  to  think  there  is. 

GEORGE.    Since  when — if  I  may  ask? 

CLARENCE.  You  may  ask — but  there  doesn't  seem 
to  be  any  answer. 

MARGUERITE.     Since  last  night. 

GEORGE.  I  see.  It  was  the  sleeping  porch.  \Vell 
—I  might  have  known.  "Let  him  dream  on." 

CLARENCE.  Can't  you  dream  on,  on  the  sleeping 
porch?  What's  the  matter  with  it? 

GEORGE.  (Accusingly  to  MARGUERITE^  I  suppose 
you  thought  I  picked  out  the  best  rooms  for  myself. 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  I  didn't  at  all.  I  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  But  why  shouldn't  you, 
George  ? 

GEORGE.  (Gloomily)  And  only  to  think,  Hoakum 
and  Birdsall  said,  when  they  gave  me  the  plans,  this 
house  was  to  be  a  real  home. 


66  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

CLARENCE.  That  shows  how  much  they  knew 
about  it. 

MARGUERITE.  The  house  can  be  built  anyway, 
George — you'll  marry  somebody — and  then  there  are 
all  your  relatives — who  will  visit  you. 

CLARENCE.  Yes — perhaps  Hoakum  and  Birdsall 
have  some  relatives,  too — and  there  might  be  little 
Hoakum  and  Birdsalls  to  make  it  jolly  at  Christmas. 
Don't  take  a  gloomy  view  of  it,  George. 

GEORGE.  Well,  I'll  build  the  house  and  I'll  live 
in  it,  and  when  you  think  of  me  in  that  cold,  empty 
nursery,  you'll  be  sorry.  Good-bye.  (Exits  L.D.) 

CLARENCE.     (Goes  L.c.j     How's  your  father? 

MARGUERITE.     Why,  he's  asleep. 

READY  door-bell 

CLARENCE.  Really?  Isn't  he  wonderful?  Crib- 
bage  the  first  night,  and  oversleeps  the  first  morn 
ing.  Simply  gorgeous.  But  he'll  make  another  for 
tune  in  a  few  minutes.  And  you  won't  need  me  at 
all.  Let's  be  married  at  once,  to  be  on  the  safe  side 
— will  you? 

(Enter  CONNORS  R.U.,  agitated.) 

MARGUERITE.    What  is  it,  Connors  ? 

CONNORS.  Excuse  me,  Miss — I'm  alarmed  about 
your  father.  I've  tried  to  wake  him  and  I  can't. 

MARGUERITE.    You  can't  wake  him? 

CONNORS.     No,  Miss.     I've  sent  for  Dr.  Broodie. 

MARGUERITE.     Is  he  coming? 

CONNORS.     Yes,  Miss ;  he  says  he'll  be  right  over. 

CLARENCE.     Maybe  7  could  do  something. 

CONNORS.  No,  sir.  I  tried  everything,  sir.  First 
I  spoke — and  then  I  shook  him  a  little — and  then  I 
— I  was  quite  rough  with  him.  (Bell  rings.)  And 
I  put  cold  water  to  his  head — but  he  never  moved. 
(Exit  CONNORS  L.U.  hurriedly.) 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY          67 

MARGUERITE.    Oh,  Clarence— I'm  afraid! 

CLARENCE.  No-— no—don't  be.  I'm  sure  it's  noth 
ing.  They  have  a  terrible  time  with  me  every  morn 
ing. 

(Enter  DR.  BROODIE  L.U.  down.) 

BROODIE.  What's  all  this  about  your  father  over 
sleeping,  Marguerite? 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  I'm  so  worried,  Doctor  Broodie. 

BROODIE.  Now,  now,  don't  worry.  I'll  just  wake 
him  right  up  and  ask  him  about  it.  (Exits  R.u.  up 
stairs.) 

MARGUERITE.  I  must  go  to  him,  Clarence.  (Exits 
R.U.,  upstairs.) 

(Enter  ALBERTINE  L.uJ 

ALBERTINE.    Oh,  mon  Dieu,  this  is  terrible 

CLARENCE.  There,  Albertine— don't  get  excited 
about  it — the  doctor's  here  .  .  . 

ALBERTINE.  Doctor?  What  is  that  to  me? — I 
will  be  accused  of  it — I  know  I  will. 

CLARENCE.    Accused  of  what? 

ALBERTINE.  Madame,  she  is  gone  and  leave  all 
the  suspicions  to  me.  ...  I  always  am  good  as  I 
know  how — I  never  do  anything  wrong — and  now 
look  how  I  find  myself  .  .  . 

CLARENCE.  What  are  you  talking  about,  Alber 
tine? 

ALBERTINE.  Madame  Weelton  go  away  with 
M'sieu  Rafaelo  and  take  all  her  jewels — yes — she  do 
not  come  back.  I  know  it — an'  leave  all  the  suspi 
cions  to  me. 

CLARENCE.    My  poor  girl,  you're  raving. 

ALBERTINE.  Raving!  Madame  act  very  strange 
all  the  morning — she  hope  Mr.  Weelton  do  not  wake 


68  A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

up  before  she  get  away.  She  ask  for  the  jewels— 
et  je  lui  ai  demande— "Vous  porter  les  bijoux  ce 
matin?"  Madame  ne  responds  pas  elle  me  regarde 
un  moment  comme  ca  et  puis  elle  jette  a  les  bijoux 
dans  la  boite. 

CLARENCE.  Mais,  er — explique — explique  in  Eng 
lish,  Albertine— 

ALBERTINE.  Et  moi!  Oh,  que  je  suis  mal- 
heureuse.  Tous,  tous  les  bijoux  sont  parti 

CLARENCE.  Mais  explique — explique,  Albertine. 
Us  appartiennent  a  Madame  n'est  ce  pas?  Why 
shouldn't  she  take  them  if  she  wants  to?  Where  do 
you  think  she's  gone  ? 

ALBERTINE.  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  I  don't  know.  Mais 
je  suis  bien  sure  qu'elle  ne  reviendra  jamais. 

CLARENCE.  Ridiculous — of  course  she'll  return— 
you're  getting  up  a  lot  of  excitement  over  nothing, 
Albertine.  I'm  surprised  at  you. 

ALBERTINE.  Parti— parti  avec  M'sieu  Rafaelo— 
ells  ne  retournera  jamais — pauvre  M'sieu  Weelton ! 

(Enter   DR.    BROODIE   R.U.    downstairs   with   glass. 
Exit  ALBERTINE  R.uJ 

BROODIE.    What's  the  matter  with  her? 

CLARENCE.  She's  just  a  little  worried  in  French 
about  Mr.  Wilton.  How  is  he,  Doctor? 

BROODIE.  Oh,  he's  all  right— that  is,  he  will  be 
in  an  hour  or  two.  He's  a  bit  dazed.  Do  you  hap 
pen  to  know,  Clarence,  if  he  was  worried  about  any 
thing  last  night? 

CLARENCE.  Why,  yes— I  believe  he  was.  Some 
business  trouble— I  don't  know  the  particulars. 

BROODIE.     Oh — was  it  anything  serious? 

CLARENCE.     Well— rather— yes,  I  believe  it  was. 

BROODIE.  Ah — that  would  account  for  it.  I — er 
—I  found  this  glass  by  his  bed— containing  a  very 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  69 

strong  solution  of  a  certain  drug — only  a  few  drops 
remained  in  the  glass.  (Puts  glass  on  table  c.) 

CLARENCE.  Good  Heavens !  Do  you  think  he 
tried  to 

BROODIE.  It  looks  like  it.  He  doesn't  remember 
doing  it — but  then,  he  doesn't  remember  anything 
that  he  did  last  night.  The  effect  of  the  drug  will 
wear  off  during  the  day.  I  have  Connors  walking 
him  up  and  down  the  hall — he  must  move  about  for 
a  little  and  I  don't  want  him  left  alone.  Are  you 
going  to  be  here? 

CLARENCE.     I'll  stay,  of  course. 

(Enter  WILTON,  CONNORS  and  MARGUERITE  R.U.J 

WILTON.  I  can  walk  all  right,  Connors — if  you 
can.  Now  suppose  I  sit  down. 

BROODIE.  (Crossing  to  WILTON  j  No,  no,  Mr. 
Wilton — you  can't  sit  down. 

WILTON.    Oh  yes,  I  can  sit  down. 

MARGUERITE.  Are  you  all  right,  Father?  Do  you 
think  you  ought  to  be  here? 

WILTON.  I  don't  think  I  am.  Not  all  here. 
Broodie,  I  am  trying  to  remember  all  those  things 
you  told  me  to,  about  last  night.  I  can't  seem  to 
think  of  any  of  them,  except  I  remember  talking  to 
Mrs.  Wrilton  in  her  room,  and  I  think  she  gave  me  a 
glass  of  water. 

BROODIE.  Ah,  yes.  I  dare  say.  It's  not  at  all 
uncommon. 

WILTON.     What  isn't? 

BROODIE.  Connecting  some  person  who  was  not 
present  with  the  act.  But  don't  worry,  Mr.  Wilton. 
Keep  the  mind  active,  but  think  of  trivial  things,  if 
possible.  And — er — just  walk,  Mr.  Wilton — we  will 
just  walk  together  as  we  are  talking. 


70          A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

(BROODIE  walks  WILTON  across  stage  L.  and  back 
again  R.    WILTON  stops  R.c.J 

WILTON.  Haven't  you  any  patients  who  are  ill 
to  see  this  morning? 

BROODIE.  None  that  my  assistant  cannot  attend 
to,  Mr.  Wilton — he  is  quite  competent. 

WILTON.  What's  your  assistant's  name  ?  I  want 
to  send  for  him. 

BROODIE.  (Walking  WILTON  up  stage  and  across 
to  R.)  Walking  this  way  tends  to  keep  up  the  cir 
culation. 

WILTON.  Well,  you  keep  up  your  circulation. 
You  walk  all  you  like. 

BROODIE.  And  afterwards  I  should  recommend  a 
complete  rest,  Mr.  Wilton. 

WILTON.    I'd  like  to  have  the  rest  now. 

BROODIE.  Now,  I  know  a  nice,  quiet  place — I 
should  really  like  to  go  there  myself. 

WILTON.  Well,  why  don't  you — they'll  be  glad 
to  see  you.  (Goes  to  cigar  case  and  takes  out  large 
black  cigar.) 

BROODIE.  Don't,  Mr.  Wilton — you  couldn't  do 
anything  worse.  Why,  a  cigar  like  that  would  put 
me  out  of  business. 

WILTON.  (Holding  box  toward  him)  Would  it? 
Have  one. 

BROODIE.  No,  no,  thank  you.  Now  tell  me,  how 
about  the  head? 

WILTON.     What  head? 

BROODIE.  Your  head.  Can  you  turn  it  from 
side  to  side? 

WILTON.  I  could  if  I  wanted  to.  (He  takes 
cigar  and  lights  it.) 

BROODIE.  No,  Mr.  Wilton.  (Takes  cigar  out  of 
WILTON'S  hand  and  throws  it  in  fireplace  and  crosses 

to  R. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  71 

WILTON.  Really,  Broodie,  I  think  you  ought  to 
go  to  that  quiet  place  you  spoke  of.  (To  CONNORS 
up  c.)  Connors,  where's  Mrs.  Wilton? 

CONNORS.  She  had  her  breakfast  early,  Mr.  Wil 
ton — and  went  out. 

WILTON.    Oh !    I'll  have  my  breakfast  and  go  out. 

CONNORS.  I'll  serve  it  at  once,  Mr.  Wilton,  in  the 
breakfast  room.  (To  DOCTOR,)  Will  eggs  be  all 
right,  Doctor? 

WILTON.  How  does  the  doctor  know  whether 
the  eggs  will  be  all  right  or  not? 

BROODIE.  I'd  suggest  a  light  breakfast,  Mr.  Wil 
ton.  You  see,  you  are  in  a  weakened  condition  and 
naturally  the  gastric  juices  recover  slowly  from  a 
shock  of  this  kind.  Sometimes  it's  a  matter  of 
years. 

WILTON.  Well,  perhaps  you'd  better  not  wait, 
then,  Doctor. 

MARGUERITE.  After  you've  had  your  breakfast, 
you'll  lie  down,  won't  you,  dear? 

WILTON.  Lie  down?  Certainly  not.  When  I 
just  had  all  this  trouble  getting  up?  Besides,  I 
must  get  down  to  the  office. 

MARGUERITE.     What  for? 

WILTON.  What  for?  What  do  I  usually  go 
downtown  for?  To  attend  to  business. 

MARGUERITE.  You  haven't  forgotten,  have  you, 
dear? 

WILTON.     Forgotten  what?     (Sits  c.) 

(DOCTOR  sits  in  chair  R.cJ 

MARGUERITE.    What  you  told  us  last  night? 

WILTON.  I  guess  I  have — I  don't  remember  tell 
ing  you  anything  last  night.  Where  did  I  go  last 
night,  Connors? 

CONNORS.     Why,   you  dined  at  home,   sir — and 


72  A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

spent  quite  an  evening  at  home — most  of  the  evening, 
I  might  say,  sir — you  played  cribbage  with  Mrs. 
Wilton. 

WILTON.  Did  I  really?  Well,  that  must  have 
been  very  pleasant.  And  then  what? 

CONNORS.  And  then,  sir,  Mrs.  Wilton  retired 
early,  sir. 

WILTON.     And  did  I  retire  early? 

CONNORS.  No,  sir — you — that  is  to  say — we 

Do  you  really  want  me  to  tell  what  we  did,  sir? 

WILTON.     Why,  yes — if  it's  not  too  disgraceful. 

CONNORS.     Why,  we  went  to  the  prize  fight,  sir. 

WILTON.    What? 

CONNORS.  To  see  the  Sledgehammer  of  Seattle 
knock  out  the  Sierra  Cyclone,  sir. 

MARGUERITE.     Father ! 

WILTON.  That's  just  what  I  was  going  to  say. 
Did  I  enjoy  the  fight,  Connors? 

CONNORS.  Oh,  yes,  sir.  We  had  a  splendid  time. 
You  seemed  to  forget  everything,  sir. 

WILTON.    That  seems  to  be  the  best  thing  I  do. 

MARGUERITE.  You  weren't  yourself,  Father,  or 
you  wouldn't  have  gone. 

WILTON.    How  do  you  mean,  I  wasn't  myself? 

MARGUERITE.    I  can't  bear  to  tell  you,  dear 

WILTON.    Why,  yes — you  must.     What  is  it? 

MARGUERITE.  It's  as  hard  for  me  to  tell  you  as 
it  was  for  you  to  tell  us. 

WILTON.     What  did  I  tell  us? 

MARGUERITE.  That  you're  ruined,  dear.  Don't 
feel  too  dreadfully  about  it. 

WILTON.     Ruined?     How  ridiculous! 

MARGUERITE.     No,  dear — it  isn't — it's  true. 

WILTON.     Did  I  really  say  that? 

MARGUERITE     Yes.     It's  true,  isn't  it,  Connors? 

CONNORS.  Yes,  Miss.  That  was  why  we  went 
to  the  prize  fight,  sir.  To  cheer  you  up. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  73 

WILTON.  I  must  have  some  reason  for  saying 
such  a  thing.  Why,  it  is  inconceivable  that  there 
could  be  anything  wrong.  Ruined  and  going  to  a 
prize  fight !  I  ask  you,  Broodie 

BROODIE.  Well,  such  things  do  occur.  Don't  you 
remember  the  famous  Hotaling  and  Higginson  fail 
ure  ?  Higginson  was  found  at  the  circus,  you  know, 
with  a  bag  of  peanuts  and  a  glass  of  red  lemonade — 
just  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

WILTON.  Well,  but  Higginson  is  in  an  insane 
asylum ! 

BROODIE.  Yes,  I  know,  but  that  doesn't  necessarily 
follow. 

WILTON.    Well,  really — I'll  telephone  to  the  orifice. 

CONNORS.  Mr.  Belden  has  been  on  the  phone,  sir, 
and  he's  on  his  way  up  here. 

WILTON.     Did  he  seem  disturbed,  Connors  ? 

CONNORS.    Why  yes,  sir,  a  little. 

BROODIE.  Don't  you  be  disturbed  about  anything, 
Mr.  Wilton.  Take  everything  easily,  that's  the  main 
thing — and  don't  anticipate  anything  but  good  news 
until  you  see  Mr.  Belden. 

WILTON.  Oh,  you  think  Belden  is  coming  to 
bring  me  good  news? 

BROODIE.  Well,  you  might  as  well  think  that  way 
until  he  comes. 

WILTON.  I  see,  so  as  to  get  the  benefit  of  the 
shock.  Connors,  see  if  Mrs.  Wilton  is  dressed.  Oh ! 
I  forgot,  you  said  she  had  gone  out. 

BROODIE.  Sometimes  a  light  novel  at  a  moment 
like  this.  Do  you  think  you  could  read? 

WILTON.  Read?  Why,  of  course  I  can  read,  if 
I  haven't  forgotten  how. 

BROODIE.  Well,  I  would  suggest  something  of 
Emily  Braddon's,  for  instance,  if  you  have  it — some 
thing  very  light. 

WILTON.     Why   not  make   it  something   heavy, 


74  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

then  I  could  throw  it  at  some  one.     Oh,  I  can  see 
so  clearly  now  how  people  go  crazy. 

BROODIE.     No,  don't,  Mr.  Wilton, 
have    my    breakfast.     (Softly   to   CONNORS.,)      I'd 
rather  take  a  chance  with  almost  any  egg  than  that 
doctor!     (Exits  R.U.,  followed  by  CONNORS .) 

BROODIE.  (To  MARGUERITE^  I'll  go  back  to  my 
office  for  about  an  hour,  then  I'll  come  back. 

MARGUERITE.  Do  you  feel  alarmed  about  him, 
Doctor  ? 

BROODIE.  Oh,  no,  no ;  but  I  want  to  keep  my  eye 
on  him. 

MARGUERITE.  Oh,  of  course.  Well,  good-bye, 
Doctor,  for  a  little  while. 

BROODIE.  Good  morning.  (Exits  L.U.  Meets 
EDDIE  in  hallway.) 

EDDIE.     Hello,  Doc. 

BROODIE.  (In  hallway)  Good  morning,  young 
man. 

CLARENCE.    (L.)    He  does  seem  dazed,  doesn't  he? 

MARGUERITE.  (Crosses  L.  to  CLARENCEJ  Sweetie 
ought  to  be  here.  I  don't  see  how  she  can  stay  away 
like  this.  (Enter  EDDIE  L.uJ  Eddie,  where  have 
you  been  ? 

EDDIE.     I've  been  to  the  office. 

MARGUERITE.     Father's  office? 

EDDIE.  No — Partington's  office.  I've  gone  to 
work. 

MARGUERITE.  Just  the  one  morning  you  could 
have  been  of  some  use  at  home. 

EDDIE.     Why — what's  the  matter? 

MARGUERITE.  Father's  overslept,  for  one  thing — 
and  it  had  a  terrible  effect  on  him — he  forgot  all 
about  everything — he  forgot  that  he  was  ruined,  and 
I  had  to  tell  him. 

EDDIE.  What!  You  mean  to  say  he  forgot  that 
he'd  gone  up? 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY          75 

MARGUERITE.    Yes. 

EDDIE.  No  one  down  town  seemed  to  know  it 
until  I  told  them. 

CLARENCE.  (L.  Who  has  been  thoughtful)  Tell 

me (To  MARGUERITE^  Do  you  happen  to  know 

where  Mrs.  Wilton  has  gone? 

MARGUERITE.  (L.C.)  Yes — for  a  stroll  in  the 
Park  with  Rafaelo— she's  feeding  the  squirrels, 
while  father's  ruined.  .  .  . 

CLARENCE.     Oh — but  they  went  in  a  taxi. 

MARGUERITE.    A  taxi? 

CLARENCE.    But  why  shouldn't  they? 

MARGUERITE.  But  why  should  they?  Sweetie 
said  she  was  going  for  a  stroll — and  she  never  rides 
in  a  taxi. 

CLARENCE.  Well— I— er— there's  something  per 
haps  I  ought  to  tell  you — there  isn't  a  word  of  truth 
in  it.  ...  (Hesitates.) 

EDDIE.  Well,  go  ahead — that  ought  to  be  easy 
for  you. 

CLARENCE.  Well,  it's  just  that  Albertine  has  been 
telling  me  that  Mrs.  Wilton  has  taken  all  her  jewels 
and  gone  off  with  Rafaelo. 

MARGUERITE.    How  awful  to  say  such  things ! 

CLARENCE.  I  think  Albertine  should  be  spoken  to. 
It's  perfectly  ridiculous,  of  course — but  you  don't 
want  her  saying  those  things  to  callers — exactly. 

MARGUERITE.  But  wouldn't  it  be  terrible  if  it 
was  true? 

CLARENCE.    Don't  be  foolish. 

EDDIE.  It's  easy  enough  to  look  and  see  if  they're 
gone.  (Starts  up  n.) 

CLARENCE.  Wait — there's  something  else — I  want 
you  to  be  very  nice  to  your  father. 

MARGUERITE.    Why,  Clarence  Rivers! 

CLARENCE.    Well — because  Dr.  Broodie  seems  to 


76  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

think  the  poor,  dear,  wonderful  man  just  tried  to 
end  everything  last  night. 

EDDIE.     I  don't  believe  it— father's  not  that  sort. 

MARGUERITE.  I  should  say  not !  Father  despises 
men  who  fail— and  kill  themselves  just  when  their 
families  need  money. 

CLARENCE.  (Crosses  to  table)  Well— Dr.  Broodie 
found  this  glass  by  his  bed  with  a  drug  in  it. 

MARGUERITE,  (c.)  This  glass?  (Taking  it.) 
Why,  Eddie— it's  Sweetie's  glass— from  the  amber 
set  we  gave  her ! 

EDDIE.     Smells  like  perfume. 

MARGUERITE.    Father  said  he  remembered  Sweetie 

giving  him  a  glass  of  water How  terrible !  This 

is  evidence,  Eddie.     Perhaps  you'd  better  take  it. 
(Holding  out  glass.) 

EDDIE.  I  don't  want  to  hold  it.  Set  it  down 
somewhere. 

MARGUERITE.  If  Albertine  gets  it,  she'll  tell  all 
the  servants. 

EDDIE.     Why  not  break  it? 

MARGUERITE.  It  would  be  found.  We  don't  want 
to  have  everyone  know  that  she  tried  to  poison  him, 
do  we? 

EDDIE.     No — just  a  few  friends,  I  should  think. 

MARGUERITE.  It's  so  hard  to  know  what  to  do, 
Eddie. 

EDDIE.  I  really  think  we  ought  to  tell  him.  He's 
got  to  be. told. 

MARGUERITE.    Sh !    (Puts  glass  on  table.) 

( WILTON  and  CONNORS  enter.) 

EDDIE.    Well,  Father,  how  are  you  this  morning? 

WILTON.  Well,  I'm  recovering  from  a  prize  fight, 
a  dose  of  poison  and  a  few  little  things  like  that. 
How  are  you? 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  77 

EDDIE.  I'm  going  to  make  you  proud  of  me  yet, 
Father.  Maybe  this  has  all  happened  just  to  bring 
me  out. 

WILTON.  Oh,  really?  Do  you  think  there's  a 
chance  of  that? 

EDDIE.  I've  been  at  old  Partington's  office  and — 
er — I  think  I'm  going  to  do  a  lot  there,  Father.  I 
think  old  Partington  himself  will  be  surprised. 

WILTON.     I  daresay. 

EDDIE.  I'm  going  to  get  him  interested  in  golf, 
for  one  thing.  He  needs  fresh  air.  I  talked  to  him 
about  it,  until  he  left  his  office  to  speak  to  somebody. 

WILTON.  Had  some  business  to  attend  to,  per 
haps. 

EDDIE.  Perhaps.  Well,  then  I  opened  all  the 
windows.  I  tell  you  the  air  was  stifling,  Father. 
The  whole  place  needs  ventilation.  I  don't  see  how 
people  work  in  such  an  atmosphere. 

READY  door-bell. 

WILTON.  Opened  the  windows,  did  you?  Do  you 
occupy  the  position  of  window-cleaner  down  there? 
That's  a  dangerous  pursuit,  and  I  don't  care  to  have 
you  do  it. 

EDDIE.  Marguerite  says  you've  forgotten  all  about 
last  night,  Dad.  I  wish  you  would  just  forget  it — 
for  I'm  going  to  be  able  to  take  care  of  us  all 

WILTON.  I  am  hazy  about  last  night,  Eddie.  But 
I  think  there  must  be  some  mistake.  Belden  will 
be  here  directly  and  then  I'll  know  what  it's  all  about. 
(Starts  up  R.  as  CONNORS  enters.) 

MARGUERITE.    Where  are  you  going,  dear? 

WILTON.  I  thought  I'd  better  not  go  down  town 
in  this (Points  to  smoking  jacket.) 

MARGUERITE.    Let  Connors  go  with  you,  dear. 

WILTON.  Nonsense!  Connors,  just  watch  these 
people,  particularly  Mr.  Eddie!  Don't  let  him  get 
near  any  of  the  windows. 


78          A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

(Exit  WILTON  R.U.  Door-bell.   CONNORS  exits  L.uJ 

MARGUERITE.     Eddie,  why  didn't  you  tell  him? 

EDDIE.  Oh,  I  couldn't.  I'll  just  have  a  look 
around  upstairs  first.  (Exits  R.U.  upstairs.) 

MARGUERITE.  Now  we  must  decide  what  to  do, 
Clarence.  I  thought  Eddie  would  tell  him.  ( Crosses 
to  CLARENCE  L.) 

CLARENCE.  Well,  why  not  wait  and  see  what  hap 
pens? 

MARGUERITE.  Oh !  Do  you  think  anything  more 
is  going  to  happen? 

(CONNORS  and  BELDEN  appear  at  L.U.  -in  hallway.) 

CONNORS.  If  you  will  wait  a  moment,  sir,  Mr. 
Wilton  will  see  you. 

BELDEN.    Please,  as  quickly  as  possible. 

(CONNORS  crosses  R.U.  Enter  BELDEN  L.U.  He 
comes  down  stage  R.  and  paces  excitedly  from 
L.  to  R.  and  back.  As  he  reaches  L.C.  MAR 
GUERITE  speaks) 

MARGUERITE.    Good  morning,  Mr.  Belden. 

BELDEN.  (Continuing  his  walk)  Good  morning. 
(Goes  LV  turns  and  stops  L.C.  on  way  back.)  What's 
all  this  I  hear  about  your  father? 

MARGUERITE.  What  have  you  heard,  Mr.  Bel- 
den. 

BELDEN.  Good  Heavens — what  haven't  I  heard! 
(Resumes  walking.) 

CLARENCE.    Do  you  think  we're  in  his  way? 

MARGUERITE.  Yes.  I  think  we'd  better  go,  Clar 
ence. 

CLARENCE.    Now's  our  chance. 

(Exit  CLARENCE  and  MARGUERITE  L.U.     WILTON 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  79 

enters  R.U.     Stands  in  doorway,  watching  BEL- 
DEN,  who  is  still  walking  up  and  down.) 

WILTON.  My  God,  John,  have  they  got  you 
walking,  too? 

BELDEN.     (Stops  c.)     Walking? 
WILTON.     (Coming  down  R.c.J     I  hope  you  don't 
object  to  my  smoking,  John.     I  had  a  terrible  time 
to  light  this  cigar— had  to  go  out  in  the  street  to 
do  it. 

BELDEN.    Good  Heavens,  Henry,  what  is  all  this? 
WILTON.     Have  you  noticed  it,  too? 
BELDEN.    Noticed  what? 

WILTON.  The  family.  I  can't  imagine  what's  the 
matter  with  them  all. 

BELDEN.  No,  no,  about  you — us !  Do  you  realize 
that  they  are  circulating  a  report  that  you  are  ruined, 
down  on  the  Street  ? 

WILTON.    They're  circulating  it  up  here,  too.    Do 
you  think  there's  anything  in  it,  Belden? 
BELDEN.    Henry,  you  astonish  me. 
WILTON.     Who's  doing  it? 

BELDEN.    It  started  in  Partington's  office.    And  1 
understand  that  Eddie  is  responsible  for  it. 
WILTON.     Eddie? 

BELDEN.  He  had  a  talk  with  Partington,  and  as 
the  result  of  it,  Partington  threw  all  his  B.  &  D, 
stock  on  the  market.  I  bought  it,  of  course,  at  a 
ridiculous  figure.  I  knew  there  was  nothing  wrong. 
We  must  have  cleared  up  eight  million  dollars  this 
morning. 

WILTON.  Good  Heavens !  Well — I  don't  see  what 

we  can  do  about  it,  Belden.     Then  we're  not  ruined  ? 

BELDEN.    Ruined  ?    I  should  say  not.    People  will 

be  surprised,   Henry — Wilton  and   Belden  making 

money  in  any  such  way  as  this. 

WILTON.     No  more  surprised  than  we  are. 


So          A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY 

BELDEN.  Why,  they  couldn't  do  anything  with 
Partington.  He  acted  like  a  maniac.  (Crosses  R.cJ 

WILTON.     That's  nothing  unusual  for  him. 

BELDEN.  I  was  amazed  that  he  held  so  much  of 
the  stock.  He  might  have  pushed  us  pretty  hard 
for  the  control — if  it  had  happened  in  any  other  way 
I  would  be  very  much  elated,  Henry,  but  it's  really 
as  near  dishonor  as  /  care  to  come. 

WILTON.     Well,  it's  near  Partington — that's  why. 

BELDEN.  I'm  afraid  we  ought  to  keep  Eddie  out 
of  business,  Henry. 

WILTON.  Well,  he  can  retire  now.  I  suppose 
he'll  get  a  percentage  of  the  eight  million.  But  what 
could  he  have  said  .  .  .  ? 

BELDEN.  Why,  he  went  down  there  to  get  a  po 
sition.  That  in  itself  looked  suspicious.  And  then 
I  understand  that  there  was  something  about  his 
supporting  the  family  and  so  on. 

WILTON.  Wait  a  minute.  Sit  down,  John.  (BEL 
DEN  sits  R.c.  on  ottoman.  WILTON  sits.)  It's  com 
ing  back  to  me  now,  about  last  night.  I'm  begin 
ning  to  remember  the  whole  thing.  I  did — I  said — 
I  said — I  was  ruined. 

BELDEN.    What!    You  said  you  were  ruined? 

WILTON.  It's  all  my  fault,  John.  It  was  all  on 
account  of  song  recitals,  teas,  pajamas 

BELDEN.    What's  wrong  with  you,  Henry? 

WILTON.  It  all  started  with  Connors,  because  you 
see  "the  poor  don't  get  to  go  very  often."  I  was  very 
tired  and  I  wanted  to  spend  a  quiet  evening  at  home, 
so  I  said  I  was  ruined  and  went  to  a  prize  fight. 

BELDEN.    Have  you  seen  a  doctor,  Henry? 

WILTON.  Have  I  seen  a  doctor?  I  should  say 
I  have.  Why,  he  woke  me  up,  took  my  cigar  away 
from  me,  then  he  walked  me  up  and  down  this  room 
for  miles,  and  during  the  excursion  he  spoke  in  the 
most  alluring  terms  of  lunatic  asylums.  You  see, 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  81 

when  I  went  to  bed,  I  was  thirsty  and  I  took  a  drink 
of  poison. 

BELDEN.    What? 

WILTON.  That's  what  the  doctor  said.  Don't 
be  alarmed,  Belden,  I  don't  make  a  general  practice 
of  it. 

BELDEN.    But,  Henry,  you  can't  mean 

WILTON.  Of  course — that's  why  I  overslept  this 
morning.  At  least  that's  what  they  say.  But,  Bel- 
den,  it's  worth  it  all,  really. 

BELDEN.  You  mean  you  made  eight  million  dol 
lars  by  it? 

WILTON.  I  mean  the  way  they  rallied  'round  me— 
that  was  why  I  kept  it  up.  Why,  look  at  this! 
(Takes  out  CONNORS'  bank-book.)  My  old  butler 
offered  me  all  his  savings. 

BELDEN.    Oh,  we  made  more  than  eight  million — 

WILTON.  And  every  one  of  my  family,  instead 
of  reproaching  me Belden,  why,  it  was  beau 
tiful.  We  all  sat  around  the  fire  and  everybody 
went  to  sleep.  It  was  the  happiest — that  is,  under 
the  circumstances 

BELDEN.  It's  all  a  puzzle  to  me.  You  told  them 
you  were  ruined? 

WILTON.  Yes,  I  wanted  to  spend  the  evening  at 
home  and  I  wanted  them  to  stay  with  me. 

BELDEN.    Well,  why  didn't  you  ask  them  to? 

WILTON.    Well,  I  didn't  like  to  do  that. 

BELDEN.  Aren't  you  the  master  of  your  own 
house  ? 

WILTON.  I  suppose  I  am,  but  the  house  was  go 
ing  to  be  here  anyhow.  You  can't  be  the  master  of 
the  people  in  a  house,  Belden,  if  they're  any  good. 
You  know  that. 

BELDEN.    But  don't  they  consider  your  wishes? 
WILTON.    Maybe  they  do — consider  them  ridicu 
lous.    I  don't  know. 


82  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

BELDEN.  Well-  (Rises.)  I  should  try  to 
think  of  some  other  way  to  keep  my  family  at  home, 
Henry.  I  really  should.  It  might  not  always  turn 
out  so  well. 

WILTON.  I'll  consider  what  you  say,  John.  It 
sounds  as  if  there  was  something  in  it,  and  I'll  be 
down  a  little  later. 

BELDEN.  All  right,  Henry.  You  are  full  of  sur 
prises—but,  after  all,  that  is  what  has  made  Wilton 
and  Belden.  Oh — er — if  Eddie  goes  into  business 
with  anybody — perhaps  it  had  better  be  with  us. 

WILTON.  Yes,  I'll  speak  to  him  about  that.  I'm 
sorry  you  had  all  that  worry,  John,  and  I  want  to 
tell  you  I  feel  just  as  badly  as  you  do  about  that 
eight  million. 

(MARGUERITE   and    CLARENCE    enter   L.U.      Come 
down  L.J 

BELDEN.  (To  MARGUERITE,)  I  feel  better  now 
that  I've  had  a  talk  with  your  father. 

MARGUERITE.    I'm  so  glad  of  that,  Mr.  Belden. 

BELDEN.  Are  you  going,  Mr.  Rivers?  If  so,  we'll 
just  walk  along  together. 

CLARENCE.  Thanks.  No,  I  don't  believe  I  could 
keep  up  with  you ! 

BELDEN.  All  right,  then.  Bye-bye — see  you  later, 
Henry.  (Exits  L.u.J 

CLARENCE.  (Crossing  to  WILTON )  Good  morn 
ing,  Mr.  Wilton.  I  heard — how  things  were  last 
night,  and  I  just  want  to  say  that  I  think  you're  play 
ing  cribbage  with  Mrs.  Wilton  was  one  of  the  bravest 
things  I  ever  heard  of. 

WILTON.     Really?     She  doesn't  play — very  well. 

CLARENCE.  With  all  your  own  trouble,  I  hate  to 
inflict  any  of  mine  on  you,  but  I — er — I  want  very 
much  to  marry  Marguerite,  if  you  don't  object. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  83 

WILTON.  Well,  but  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
marry  some  one  else.  (Crossing  L.  to  MARGUERITE,) 
Or  are  you  going  to  marry  George  first — or  what  is 
the  arrangement? 

MARGUERITE.  I  was  going  to  marry  George,  dear, 
but  that  was  last  night. 

WILTON.     Early  in  the  evening. 

MARGUERITE.  Later,  I  decided  to  marry  Clar 
ence. 

WILTON.  You're  not  marrying  Clarence  on  my 
account,  are  you  ? 

MARGUERITE.     Not  entirely. 

CLARENCE.  Isn't  that  ripping!  Well,  now,  that's 
disposed  of,  Mr.  Wilton,  I  want  you  to  treat  me  like 
a  son. 

WILTON.  I'm  afraid  I  can't  afford  it.  I've  got 
one  son  running  around  somewhere. 

CLARENCE.  I  told  Webb  of  our  office  that  any 
thing  we  have  that  will  be  of  use  to  you  is  at  your 
disposal,  including  the  doorplate.  Webb,  you  know, 
is  very  quiet. 

WILTON.  That's  very  good  of  you,  but  it  won't 
be  necessary.  Belden  has  been  here  and  everything 
is  going  to  be  all  right. 

MARGUERITE.     Father — not  really! 

WILTON.  Oh,  yes— and  I— er— I  feel  disturbed 
about  Emmie,  Marguerite.  Did  you  see  her  before 
she  went  out?  Was  she  worried?  Of  course  she 
must  have  been. 

MARGUERITE.    Oh,  Father  dear — yes,  I  did  see  her. 

WILTON.     What  is  it  ? 

MARGUERITE.  (Crossing  R.)  Oh,  darling,  I  can't 
bear  to  tell  you.  If  you  don't  want  me  to,  I  won't 
marry  anybody — I'll  always  stay  with  you — to  make 
up  for  it. 


84  A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY 

(EDDIE  enters  L.U.) 

WILTON.  (To  CLARENCE,)  Do  you  know  what 
she  means? 

CLARENCE.     Why,  yes — I  think  it's  absurd. 

WILTON.     Go  on — tell  me. 

CLARENCE.  She  thinks  that  Mrs.  Wilton  has 
gone,  you  see 

WILTON.    Gone  where? 

MARGUERITE.  She  has  gone,  dear — she  went 
away  with  Rafaelo  this  morning  quite  early — and 
took  all  her  jewels.  (Crosses  up.) 

EDDIE.     (Coming  down)     Never  mind,  Dad. 

WILTON.     Impossible ! 

(CONNORS  enters  R.uJ 

WILTON.    Connors,  I  want  to  see  Albertine. 

CONNORS.     She's  gone,  sir. 

WILTON.     Gone? 

CONNORS.  Yes,  sir.  She  left  shortly  after  Mrs. 
Wilton  went  out,  sir.  She  had  Mrs.  Wilton's  rough 
coat,  and  two  suitcases.  She  called  a  cab  and  never 
said  a  word  to  anybody. 

WILTON.  Who  brought  down  the  suitcases  for 
her? 

CONNORS.     Nagakura. 

WILTON.  See  if  he  heard  where  the  cab  man  was 
told  to  drive. 

CONNORS.  He  did,  sir — he  said  it  was  to  some 
boat. 

WILTON.     Get  me  a  newspaper. 

CLARENCE.  (Gets  paper  from  table)  Here  you 
are—shall  I  look,  Mr.  Wilton? 

WILTON.     Yes — please. 

CLARENCE.      (Reading    nervously)      Help — help 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  85 

wanted  —  boats  —  navigation  —  Norwich  Line  —  3 
North  River. 

EDDIE.  (Crossing  to  CLARENCE.  Looking  in  pa 
per)  There  you  are  —  the  Italia  —  sailing  at  noon. 

WILTON.     I  want  the  car  at  once,  Connors. 

(CONNORS  exits  L.uJ 

MARGUERITE.  (Crossing  to  WILTON  R.cJ  Father 
—  you're  not  going  after  her?  How  can  you,  after 
what  she  did?  You  said  yourself— 

WILTON.     WThat  did  I  say? 

MARGUERITE.    She  gave  you  that  drug,  darling— 

READY  curtain. 

WILTON.    No,  no  —  you  misunderstood  me. 

MARGUERITE.  And  I  found  the  glass.  It's  her 
glass  —  from  the  amber  set  we  gave  her.  You  shan't 
go,  Father. 

CLARENCE.     Can  I  do  anything? 

WILTON.  Yes  —  see  if  you  can  find  them.  She 
must  know  that  I'm  not  ruined  —  and  that  she  can 
draw  on  me  for  whatever  she  needs. 

CLARENCE.  You  don't  want  me  to  bring  her  back, 
then?  (Starts  up  L.) 

WILTON.  What  would  be  the  use?  Just  wait  a 
moment.  (Goes  to  desk.) 

(As  WILTON  writes,  MARGUERITE  joins  CLARENCE 


CLARENCE.  (To  MARGUERITE,)  I  hope  I'll  behave 
as  well  as  that  when  you  run  off  with  some  one. 

EDDIE.  He's  all  broken  up.  Just  imagine  her  go 
ing  off  with  that  crazy  Italian. 

CONNORS.    (Entering  L.uJ    The  car,  Mr.  Wilton. 


86  A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY 

fWiLTON  gives  letter  to  CLARENCE,  who  hurries 
out  L.u.J 

WILTON,    (c.)     I  wish  I  hadn't  waked  up,  really. 
CURTAIN 


ACT    II 

SCENE  2 :   The  Same. 

AT    RISE:    Discovered:  *£DDIE,    MARGUERITE   and 
JULIE.    After  a  pause: 

EDDIE.    What's  he  doing  now  ? 

MARGUERITE.  He's  in  her  room.  Dr.  Broodie  is 
with  him. 

JULIE.  Do  you  mind  if  I  stay,  Marguerite,  until 
Clarence  comes  ? 

MARGUERITE.  No,  dear — you  don't  mind  our  not 
talking  ? 

READY  auto. 

JULIE.  Oh,  no — though  it  does  seem  just  like  a 
funeral. 

EDDIE.     Well,  it  is — in  a  way. 

JULIE.    Do  you  feel  just  terribly,  Marguerite? 

MARGUERITE.  Why,  of  course.  We'd  gotten  used 
to  Sweetie.  She  was  really  almost  like  one  of  the 
family — wasn't  she,  Eddie  ? 

EDDIE.  Yes — she  was  a  nice  stepmother.  But  we 
didn't  bring  her  up  right. 

MARGUERITE.  Now,  after  father  gets  over  this — 
if  he  does — we  may  have  the  whole  thing  to  go 
through  again.  Everyone  wants  to  marry  father, 
you  know.  Just  suppose  Katherine  Longley  should 
decide  to,  Eddie. 

87 


88  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

JULIE.     But  she  is  married. 

MARGUERITE.  I  know,  but  if  she  decided  to  she 
would,  some  way. 

AUTO. 

EDDIE.    There's  the  car  now. 

MARGUERITE.    It's  Clarence.    (Exits  L.u.J 

JULIE.  (Going  to  EDDIE,  who  is  R.J  I  haven't 
told  you  the  dreadful  thing  that's  happened  to  me. 

EDDIE.    What  is  it,  Julie? 

JULIE.  Uncle  Jerry  says  that  if  I  marry  you  now, 
he'll  cut  me  off  in  his  will. 

EDDIE.  Because  he  lost  some  money — that  wasn't 
my  fault.  I  didn't  know  that  my  going-  to  work 
would  create  a  panic  on  the  Street. 

JULIE.  It  wasn't  so  much  that  as  your  opening 
the  windows  in  his  office.  He  came  home  and  had 
a  chill,  and  made  us  all  stand  around  his  hedside 
while  he  recited  things  from  the  Bible,  and  then  he 
told  me  about  his  will. 

EDDIE.  Never  mind,  dear.  We  don't  need  any 
one's  money — we'll  have  our  own — father  won't  be 
mean. 

(Enter  CLARENCE  and  MARGUERITE  L.uJ 

CLARENCE.    Well — I  found  them. 

EDDIE.    (R.  of  c.)    What  did  she  say  ? 

CLARENCE.  I  only  saw  Albertine.  She  made  all 
sorts  of  excuses — and  then  she  broke  into  French 
and  so  did  I,  and  after  that  we  neither  of  us  under 
stood  each  other.  But  what  she  said  sounded  per 
fectly  terrible. 

EDDIE.     What's  that?    A  letter  for  father? 

CLARENCE.  No — it's  the  same  letter.  Returned 
with  thanks.  Albertine  dashed  off  with  it  and 
brought  it  back. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY          89 
(Enter  WILTON  and  DOCTOR  BROODIE  R.u.J 

WILTON.    Did  you  find  Mrs.  Wilton? 

CLARENCE.  No — I  saw  Albertine.  She  took  the 
letter  to  Mrs.  Wilton,  and  here  it  is.  (Gives  letter 
to  WILTON. ) 

WILTON.  Oh!  She  has  sent  it  back.  I  see!  I 
see! 

(Enter  EMMIE  hurriedly  L.uJ 

EMMIE.  Oh,  Harry — such  a  dreadful  thing  has 
happened.  You  must  do  something  about  it  quickly 
— Pietro  has  been  arrested. 

WILTON.    (Dazed)    And  you — you've  come  back  ? 

EMMIE.  Yes — he  has  all  the  money  and  the  tick 
ets,  Harry.  Do  you  think  they  will  take  them  away 
from  him  in  the  station  house?  Oh,  dear — just 
when  I  thought  I  had  everything  arranged  so  beau 
tifully. 

EDDIE.     Good  Lord ! 

WILTON.  Now  tell  me — tell  me  all  about  it — and 
don't  be  afraid. 

EMMIE.  But  how  can  I  help  it,  Harry — when  I 
think  of  Pietro — and  all  because  he  was  so  kind- 
hearted. 

WILTON.     Oh — he  was  kind-hearted,  was  he? 

EMMIE.  Yes — you  see,  the  traffic  policeman  was 
very  angry  with  the  driver  at  that  place  where  you 
must  go  round  the  block  and  come  back  where  you 
started — and  he  pulled  his  arm  and  the  man  lost 
his  balance  and  fell,  and  Pietro  jumped  out  of  the 
cab  and  hit  the  policeman. 

WILTON.     But  where,  where? 

EMMIE.    Right  in  the  face,  Harry. 

WILTON.  Did  you  get  off  the  boat?  Was  this 
after  or  before,  or  what? 


90  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

EMMIE.  Off  the  boat!  It  was  a  cab.  Harry — 
this  was  just  after  we  had  been  to  Updejohn's  and 
he  had  given  us  the  money  for  the  jewels. 

WILTON.  Was  this  on  your  way  to  the  boat»? 
Why,  no,  it  couldn't  have  been. 

EMMIE.     Harry — what  is  it — Harry,  are  you  ill? 

MARGUERITE.  Of  course  he  is — and  you  shan't 
excite  him  like  this. 

WILTON.  Yes,  yes — I  want  to  be  excited — I  want 
to  understand. 

EMMIE.  Marguerite,  why  do  you  look  at  me  like 
that?  Don't  let  her  look  at  me  like  that,  Harry. 

WILTON.  No — no — don't  look  at  her,  Marguerite 
— let  her  explain. 

MARGUERITE.  (Taking  glass  from  table)  Yes — 
let  her  explain  this.  That  dreadful  drug  you  gave 
my  dear  father — do  you  deny  that  you  gave  it  to 
him? 

EMMIE.     No,  of  course  not. 

MARGUERITE.    Then  you  don't  deny  it? 

WILTON.  Please,  Marguerite,  please  go  away.  All 
of  you,  please  go  away,  if  you  don't  mind. 

(Exit   MARGUERITE,    EDDIE,    CLARENCE   and  JULIE 
R.uJ 

EMMIE,     (c.)     Did  it  hurt  you,  Harry? 

WILTON.  (L.C.)  Why,  I  couldn't  wake  up  this 
morning — that's  all. 

EMMIE.  But,  Harry — I  only  gave  you  what  I 
take. 

WILTON.     What  you  take! 

EMMIE.  Yes— why,  yes,  Harry— but  I'm  used  to 
it,  you  see. 

WILTON.    You're  used  to  it! 

EMMIE.     (Turning  to  DR.  BROODIE  R.cJ     Tell 


A    SUCCESSFUL   CALAMITY  91 

him  not  to  be  worried,  Dr.  Broodie.  Dr.  Broodie 
gives  it  to  me. 

BROODIE.  But,  my  dear,  not  in  any  such  quantity 
• — how  much  are  you  taking  ? 

EMMIE,  (c.)  Why,  I  don't  measure  it  any  more. 
I  just  pour  in  what  I  think  is  right. 

WILTON.     Good  Heavens,  Broodie ! 

BROODIE.  You  don't  understand  the  situation,  Mr. 
Wilton. 

WILTON.  No,  I  don't — I  want  you  to  explain  it 
to  me. 

BROODIE.  There's  nothing  to  be  worried  about, 
Mr.  Wilton.  What  can  a  doctor  do  ?  Women  clam 
oring  for  help  get  on  his  nerves. 

WILTON.  Then  take  something  yourself,  so  you 
can't  hear  them — but  don't — don't 

EMMIE.  Don't  scold  Dr.  Broodie,  Harry.  And 
don't  think  that  I  have  any  habit — or  anything  like 
that.  I  never  take  it  without  deciding  first  that  I 
could  stop  if  I  wanted  to. 

BROODIE.  The  society  women  of  to-day  are  very 
nervous,  Mr.  Wilton.  They  try  to  do  more  than 
their  vitality  permits.  They  are  high-strung,  and 
if  we  didn't  give  them  something  to  soothe  them 

WILTON.     They  might  amount  to  something. 

BROODIE.  No,  Mr.  Wilton.  As  a  physician  I  pro 
test  that  there  is  a  place  for  drugs.  I  believe  in 
them,  properly  administered. 

WILTON.  So  do  I.  And  the  deadlier— the  better, 
but  give  them  to  the  right  people. 

EMMIE.  Oh — do  call  up  the  police  station,  Harry 
— and  get  Pietro  out. 

BROODIE.  Well,  I  don't  think  you'll  need  me  any 
longer 

WILTON.    No,  I  don't  think  we  will. 

(Exit  BROODIE,  L.u.J 


92  A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY 

EMMIE.  Do  you  think  anything  dreadfu^  will 
happen  to  Pietro,  Harry? 

WILTON.  Not  while  he  stays  in  the  police  ^ sta 
tion.  Why  did  you  want  me  to  sleep  this  morning? 

EMMIE.  I  didn't.  I  wanted  you  to  sleep  ^  last 
night.  When  you  came  into  my  room  last  night, 
you  seemed  so  nervous,  Harry.  I  knew  you  had 
been  sitting  by  the  fire  and  thinking,  and  when  you 
were  going  to  get  a  glass  of  water,  I  gave  you  what 
was  in  my  glass.  That  was  all. 

WILTON.    But  why  didn't  you  tell  me? 

EMMIE.  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  take  it,  Harry, 
and  I  knew  it  would  do  you  so  much  good. 

(PIETRO'S  voice  is  heard  in  the  hall  L.u.J 

PIETRO.     Mrs.  Weelton — she  is  here? 

EMMIE.  (L.  of  WILTON,  who  is  c.)  Oh— it's 
Pietro  (Runs  out  into  hallway.  Returns  immedi 
ately  with  roll  of  bills.  Enter  PIETRO.J  Harry- 
look  !  Six  thousand  dollars,  and  I  could  have  gotten 
lots  more— but  I  wanted  to  consult  you  about  it. 

PIETRO.    Good  morning,  Meester  Weelton— 
been  arrest  in  the  police  station— such  a  time— please 
excuse  the  delay. 

EMMIE.  I  took  Pietro  with  me,  Harry,  because 
he  knows  the  man  who  runs  the  place  awfully  well 
—such  a  nice  man,  Harry.  He  just  takes  everything 
you've  got  and  gives  you  money  for  it— then  lets 
you  have  it  back  for  a  few  cents. 

WILTON.  Why,  you  dear  child— you  ve  been 
pawning  your  jewels  for  me? 

EMMIE.  Your  jewels,  Harry— you  gave  them  all 
to  me— and  that  was  why  I  stopped.  I  thought 
there  might  be  something  you  liked  to  see  me  wear. 
Is_is  anything  the  matter,  Harry  ?  I  mean  anything 
more  than— just  everything? 


A    SUCCESSFUL    CALAMITY  93 

WILTON.     No — that's  all.     Just  everything.  .  .  . 

PIETRO.  Meester  Weelton,  please — let  me  extend 
the  hand  of  sympathy —  (Extending  both  hands.) 

WILTON.  Certainly — which  one  is  it?  But  if  you 
refer  to  the  business  difficulty,  that  has  all  been 
fixed  up. 

EMMIE.     Fixed  up,  Harry? 

WILTON.    Yes — everything  is  all  right. 

PIETRO.  Then  you  are  not  rueened  ?  Splendeed  ! 
Not  rueened ! 

EMMIE.  Not  ruined,  Harry — you  don't  really 
mean  that  you're  not  ruined? 

PIETRO.    Not  rueened! 

WILTON.  Don't  keep  saying  it  in  concert,  both 
of  you — will  you? 

EMMIE.     No — but  not  ruined! 

PIETRO.    I  am  so  happy  for  you,  Meester  Weelton. 

WILTON.  Yes — yes — I'm  sure  you  are — and  I 
must  thank  you  for  all  the  trouble  you  went  to  in 
my  behalf — the  getting  arrested  and  everything. 

PIETRO.  Oh,  it  was  a  great  pleasure,  Mr.  Weelton. 
I  hope  you  do  not  regret  too  much  that  Mrs.  Weel 
ton  make  the  acquaintance  of  Meester  Updejohn. 

WILTON.  No,  no.  It's  convenient  at  times  to  have 
a  friend  like  Updejohn. 

PIETRO.  I  find  eet  ees.  And  now  I  will  say  good 
bye,  Meester  Welton.  (Shakes  hands.)  Not  rueened ! 
Good-bye,  fair  lady.  (Kisses  EMMIE'S  hand  and 
exits  L.U.) 

EMMIE.  Harry — isn't  it  absurd — but  you  know, 
I'm  a  little  disappointed  that  everything  is  all  right. 

WILTON.  Well,  we  must  try  to  make  the  best 
of  it. 

EMMIE.  I  saw  such  pretty  chintz  in  a  window — 
it  would  look  ridiculous  in  this  house — but  it  would 
have  been  so  sweet  in  the  abandoned  farm. 

WILTON.    (R.  of  T.)    Well,  we'll  have  it.    We  can 


94  A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY 

afford  it  now — you  know  it  takes  more  money  to 
run  an  abandoned  farm  than  any  other  kind. 

EMMIE.  (Turns  to  table,  looking  at  letter)  Is 
this  letter  for  me,  Harry? 

WILTON.    It  was — yes. 

EMMIE.  Let  me  see.  (She  takes  the  letter  and 
reads  it.)  What  does  it  mean,  Harry? 

WILTON.  It  doesn't  mean  anything.  They  told 
me  you  had  gone  away  with  Rafaelo — think  of  my 
believing  it.  But  you  are  both  so  young  and  it  is 
such  a  beautiful  morning 

EMMIE.  Leave  you  for  Rafaelo?  Why,  I  wouldn't 
leave  you  for  anyone,  Harry,  especially  when  you're 
in  trouble! 

WILTON.  I  must  manage  to  keep  in  trouble  all 
the  time. 

EMMIE.  (Reading)  "Oh,  my  dear,  if  you  ever 
regret,  come  back  to  me."  What  a  wonderful  love 
letter,  Harry ! 

WILTON.    Is  it? 

EMMIE.  Oh,  yes — may  I  have  it?  Who  opened 
it,  Harry  ? 

WILTON.  Albertine.  She  went  off  with  your 
steamer  coat — they  said,  and  all  the  trunks  and  hat 
boxes  in  the  house. 

EMMIE.  I  gav^  her  the  coat,  Harry.  It  was  wear 
ing  a  little  and  I  didn't  know  we  were  going  to  be 
ruined.  Where  has  she  gone  ? 

WILTON.  I  don't  know,  dear.  Very  likely  she 
hasn't  gone  anywhere.  She's  probably  upstairs. 
You  can't  believe  anything  people  say. 

EMMIE.  She  was  going  to  Norwich  to-day.  Her 
sister  has  a  new  baby  and  I  told  Albertine  she  could 

go- 

WILTON.    Norwich !    Clarence  Rivers  went  to  the 

wrong  pier.     He  would,  of  course — 


A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY  95 

(CONNORS  enters  L.uJ 

READY  curtain. 

CONNORS,  Excuse  me,  sir.  Mr.  Rafaelo  forgot 
to  give  you  these.  (Gives  pawn  tickets  to  WILTON. ) 

EMMIE.    Oh,  the  tickets  from  Updejohn's. 

WILTON.  Oh — yes,  Updejohn's.  Oh,  Connors — 
one  moment.  Just  a  matter  of  business.  I  want  to 
give  you  back  your  bank-book. 

CONNORS.  (Hesitating)  And  is  it  true,  sir,  that 
everything  is  all  right  again? 

WILTON.  Yes,  yes,  Connors — it's  even  more  than 
that. 

CONNORS.    I'm  so  glad,  sir. 

WILTON.  I  know  you  are,  and  I  can't  tell  you 
how  I  appreciate  all  you  did.  I  wouldn't  have  missed 
it  for  the  world. 

CONNORS.  (Looking  in  bank  book)  But  Mr.  Wil 
ton,  there's  some  mistake,  sir.  I  didn't  have  six 
thousand  dollars  in  the  bank. 

WILTON.    Well,  you  see  it  was  for  safety. 

CONNORS.     Safety,  sir? 

WILTON.  Yes — so  that  you'll  have  all  the  more 
to  rescue  me  with  should  another  calamity  overtake 
me. 

CONNORS.  Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  how  good  you  are, 
sir,  and  what  a  happy  day.  And  only  to  think  how 
it  started. 

WILTON.  I'd  rather  not,  Connors,  if  you  don't 
mind.  (Exit  CONNORS.^ 

EMMIE.  You  forgave  me,  Harry!  Oh,  it's  won 
derful  to  be  forgiven,  even  if  you  haven't  done  any 
thing. 

WILTON.  I'd  like  to  be  forgiven,  too.  if  you  don't 
mind. 

EMMIE.  I'm  so  happy,  Harry.  But  of  course 
happiness  isn't  everything. 


96  A  SUCCESSFUL  CALAMITY 

WILTON.  What  is? 

EMMIE.  I  don't  know— 

WILTON.  Well,  I  don't.     Let's  let  it  go  at  hap 
piness. 

CURTAIN 


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5003  ii- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


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